The Other Side of Fate
by ElfMaidenOfLight
Summary: Draco Malfoy, a foot in both the Deatheaters’ camp and in Dumbledore’s army, begins to pull away from the life he has been groomed to lead and embraces a family he never dreamed he could have. But will the past continue to haunt him?
1. Summer

A/n- Feels like its been forever, doesn't it?

Disclaimer: Are we going to have to do this again? Geez, I love usuing question marks!

Summary: See below…

**Important:** **For the** **newbies**, this is the sequel to Jackknifed and will not make since unless you go and read it. It doesn't take that long because the chapters are short! Don't worry, apparently people say its a good fic- who'da thought?

**Edit:** Actually, if your a newbie and don't WANT to go read my 500+ reviewed story, just read the following sentence and it'll bring ya up to speed... hopefully:

A quick summary of Jackknifed:

After a chance encounter and many chapters of first hating each other, then tolerating each other, soon loving eachother, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger have revealed their relationship-albiet inadvertantly- to the Hogwarts community. Harry, although at first reluctant, accepts this 'betrayal' (as Ron would call it) and although Ronald doesn't trust Malfoy and makes a fit about the relationship at first, he has become a somewhat silent protestor.

Now for heaven sakes, go read Jackknifed, for that did NOT do it justice. (or...continue... you know... we're laid back..)

**For those returning,** (I love you guys, by the way) welcome back! I promise this sequel won't disappoint. It will have 19 chapters, mostly focused on Draco. Although a lot are vying for a 'post-Hogwarts/adult/marriage' fic, it probably won't happen. I'm not too fond of adult fics. However, this story will transcend Hogwarts and overflow into a 'still 7th year but kind of post-Hogwarts still teenagers' kinda thing. Don't worry, this WILL make since.

Oh, did I mention this is HBP compatible? Just a few details will be changed.

The real chapter summary: A look into the first few days and weeks of Draco's summer.

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate**

**

* * *

**

Malfoy hadn't slept.

Well, he _had_ slept, but not enough to constitute a real period of rest- not since he had arrived home the weekend previous.

Perhaps by August he would be able to close his eyes without every single creak jolting him out of bed. Perhaps by August his mother would stop sulking and his maids would stop staring. Perhaps by August he could begin counting down the days until he could get back on that damn Hogwarts train.

But it wasn't August, not yet, and none of those things were happening.

"Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Malfoy, are you awake?" A curt little voice, old and one the verge of wheezing, called though the door at him.

"Been awake all night." Draco whispered, closing his eyes, rolling back over to tuck himself more fully into his velvety sheets.

"What was that, _Mr._ Malfoy?"

"Nothing, nothing, I'm up… Merlin, that woman…" Draco pushed himself up and swung his bare legs over the side of the bed, shrugging on a white shirt which had been laying on the ground at his feet.

Noting how particularly wrinkled the shirt was, the boy proceeded to strip it off again and throw it against his headboard. Instead, he walked over to the back of his bedroom door and pulled a black robe off a wooden peg nailed there. Pulling it on, he opened the door.

The small bent woman who had been waiting for him pushed past with feather-duster and rag in hand. Immediately she bustled to the window, pulled back the gauzy drapes, unlatched the large clasp in the center, and threw open the pains.

Sunlight cascaded in to throw itself over the rug covered stone, washing up upon the walls, the four-poster bed, cabinets, and desk.

Draco mused that the only real color apart from the sun were the woman's old yellow rubber gloves.

She was a muggle and the oldest of the Malfoy maids, a part of the furniture from before Draco had been born. It had been a top priority for his father to 'acquire' an all muggle staff. Not only did it further ingrain within the megalomaniac that he was superior, but it allowed for Deatheater activity without the threat of a magical uprising from the help.

Now, as Draco watched the woman- nameless to him- pick his shirt off the headboard, he felt as if he would be sick.

Hurriedly, he rushed out of the room and down the hall, his feet echoing off the walls of the castle-like manor.

The hall ran long ways down the back side of the mansion, branching out into smaller corridors that spiraled up towards the sky or down into the earth. Opposite the double front doors a split staircase joined the middle of the hall to the first level. Draco reached the stairs and walked down the left side towards the smell of cooking bacon.

"Do you insist on wearing nothing round the house other then your shorts and robe?" Airily, his mother waved at him to sit at the long dinning room table, breakfast already splayed in a wide circle around the head chair, which, was still empty.

Draco took a seat across from his mother.

"Get off it." He huffed, pulling back his blond hair out of his eyes. His mother looked him over, particularly at his shinning head.

"You need a trim."

Just had one. Draco thought, a smirk on his face.

One of the butlers walked over with the milk and as the tray was set down, a little black band was placed in front of Draco. He pulled his bangs back into a tight tail against his head, something he would never be caught doing anywhere except his home.

It had surprised Draco, for the first few days he had been home, how his mother had simply absorbed the shocking disgrace of her sons' rumored betrayal; obviously owled by Snape, Zabini, Parkinson, or all three. Probably multiple times.

She hadn't said a word to him but looked at all times as if she would, at any second, burst out into tears or attempt to jinx, hex, or curse him.

Neither happened.

Every morning now, it was the same: Draco would awake, feeling insanely tired, pull himself out of bed and downstairs, his mother would make some remark about the way he looked- or felt- and attempted a casual conversation while all the while fishing for some tidbits of information.

Always the same.

At first, she had been quite inquisitive about the whereabouts of his class and family ring.

Draco had told her he had lost it.

"Draco, dear, why don't you tell me how your summer homework is going?" Her lips pursed in what was an attempt at a motherly smile, only to reflect as if she had licked a bit of lemon.

Draco poured copious amounts of creamy milk from a pitcher onto his dry cereal while flicking his finger at a few links of sausage, the food flying onto is plate.

"It's done." He said simplythrough a mouthful of food.

His mothers' blue eyes cast to slits.

"Don't lie." She hissed dangerously.

Draco raised his eyebrows in self defense. "I'm not! I finished it last week."

"You've only been home a week… dear."

Malfoy shrugged.

"Your father wishes he could talk to you…"

At this Draco froze, his spoon halfway to his lips

"…I have been told…" His mother continued. "That the Dark Lord wishes to impose upon you a quest this year, however, he and your father are questioning your loyalties. Your father believes that if you partake in what the Dark Lord wishes, you will be considered back into his good graces and your mistakes will be forgiven. Your father…"

Did she known how much this caught him off guard, her spilling this out a breakfast? He was hardly awake! Perhaps that was her intention.

"Father's in Azkaban."

"He has ways of finding out about your little… escapades."

Draco let his spoon fall, his chair screeching backwards a pace. He pointed a finger at his mother, the usual Malfoy tempter within him rising.

"You have no right to talk to me about my father. You shouldn't even been communicating with him, nor with the Deatheaters, nor with the Dark Lord. You are a Malfoy widow, act like one, for your husband and my father no longer exists."

"How dare you." His mothers' nostrils flared.

"This is my house now, _mother_, it has been since father left his estate to me when he was incarcerated. I can dare if I want to." Draco stood up and picked a piece of toast off the table, his appetite and good mood spoiled.

He had been feeling so lighthearted lately, as if the incident on the train was the final casting off of the black cloud over him. Summer was, in Hermiones' opinion, an opportunity for Draco to take stock in his life.

Malfoy had expressed his distress in the way his life was going, Hermione had challenged him to make good on his word and change it.

It had all been going well until this new bit of news.

_A quest._

This did not, by any means, bode well.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco turned and was drawn out of this thoughts, his mother now staring silently at her plate, by a servant.

"Yes?" He asked as casually has he could with his blood still boiling.

"You have an owl, sir."

"Owl…oh! Oh, good, yes, let me get that." Draco followed the tall man past the swinging kitchen door, past the floured cutting boards where bread was rising, and onto the back porch.

The man bowed back into the house and Draco approached the snowy white owl.

"Its Potter's ruddy bird." He whispered, yet, his eyes grew alight as he saw a roll of parchment attached to the bird's foot.

Tiny little blue ribbon was tied round it.

* * *

A/n- Ah! And so it begins! Watch out for chapter one! 


	2. Letters

A/n- I really hated the way Draco sounded in the last chapter. Too chipper. Will fix!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Summary: The letter.

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate**

* * *

The white Owl nipped at Draco's pale fingers as he tried to untie the blue ribbon, the beast's talons making long rivulet scratches down the stool it was perched upon. It hopped up and down on one leg, making a soft hooting sound out of annoyance, irritability, or fatigue.

The cook and her house elf helper glanced at Draco with raised eyebrows.

With a flap of the owls' wings, a few papers fell to the floor of the kitchens, some of the countertops pluming white as the flour was disturbed there.

Draco's eyebrows came together and his lips pursed. Annoyed, he grabbed the bird roughly about a leg and yanked it up in the air.

"Enough."

The owl screeched, but Malfoy kicked open the back door and was already wrestling the bird out onto the back stoop of the manor.

The sunlight had already risen into Draco's bedroom but now its rays were cast high above the eastern hills and orchard. The long rows of forgotten trees, once harvested so long ago, looked like sticks reaching upwards to the sun.

The apple trees, once pregnant with fruit, were barren and wrought with weeds.

Even the expansive grass was pitted with brown patches.

Draco turned from the forgotten land and looked at the bird twisting in his grip.

"Demon thing," He murmured as he was finally able to pry the parchment off, gaining a long scratch down his arm in the process.

Headwig hopped around the porch.

Draco's fingers ran over the letter delicately and he moved, dreamlike, over to the steps trailing down to the dead gardens. There he sat, leaning against a wooden post that held the lattice above.

After his mother's outburst and unpleasant news about not only his relationship with Hermione being divulged but also about the Dark Lord's wish that Draco would 'redeem himself'- Malfoy wasn't so sure he wanted to open the letter.

With the way this day was going…

Eyes barred shut against the sun; Draco looked out over the land once more.

It hadn't always been like this. Perhaps not in his life time, but the land had not always been so dead.

The only thing left alive was the forest that began on the edge of the Malfoy property, expanding every year like desert.

The boy ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes, slipping off the blue ribbon and unfurling the paper.

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open.

_Draco,_

_I hope your summer is going well and you're getting enough rest._

Hah, not likely. Malfoy thought bitterly.

_That your summer homework is being completed!_

Draco laughed.

_But, the reason I owled you… Things have gotten very difficult… _

Draco sat up a bit straighter, turning his hands so the morning light didn't filter so brightly onto the words.

_I know I made you promise to write to me this summer, but I don't think you'll be able to. I'm going away for a while and won't get any letters you send if you deliver them to my house. I know it's strange… but I just can't tell you, it's for my safety as much as it's for yours. Don't worry, R and H will be there._

_We'll be stopping into The Leaky Cauldron a few days before the start of term. I would love to see you there. _

_I'm sorry, Draco. I wish none of this were happening… _

_I love you…_

_-Yours _

Draco had to read it over three times.

_R _and _H. _

Must be Harry and Ron, undoubtedly.

Draco felt his heart sink a fraction, a cold feeling prickle on the tips of his fingers.

Hermione had to be doing something for Dumbledore.

All summer?

"Wait…" Draco put down the letter and snapped his fingers, a stout little house elf apparating directly in front of him. "Quill," He said simply and the creature disappeared then reappeared directly in front of him. "Now shoo."

As the feather was dropped into Malfoy's hand, he began slinked towards the Owl again, a delicate sounding 'pop' issuing from behind him as the house elf vanished.

If it was Potter's bird, then it had to go _back_ to Potter.

Balancing the parchment on his knee, Draco scribbled out a few word, the dry ink in the tip of the quill scratching out blurrily.

_I'll be there._

"Come here bird."

Hedwig hooted defiantly.

Draco made a low noise in his throat, his eyes slits, but the owl raised itself high and flapped its wings.

"No wonder you're Potter's bird, you have his attitude you damn little thing… I have a letter you know? Isn't that your_ job_ you little-"

Hedwig dived towards Draco and the boy twisted out of the way, the bird snatching at the letter in his hand, ripping it away and soaring up through the slats of the lattice. The parchment was held tightly between its' beak.

Draco watched, seething, nursing the scratches along his knuckles, the blue ribbon clutched within his hands.

Now he had to wait.

Sighing, he turned around to walk back into the manor.

Malfoys hated to wait.

The kitchen door was kicked open and Draco glowered around the room, ignoring the looks the help was giving him.

His bare feet made soft sounds as he walked and back into the dining area, his robe tied round his middle brushing the stained cabinets as he passed.

His mother still sat there at the table, her upturned nose turned visible over the coffee cup she was sipping out of.

Draco took one look and wanted to hit her.

Instead, he grabbed some toast and tore away from the table, walking silently past the magically heated food.

As he passed, his mother grabbed his arm. Draco glared down at Narsissa. She said nothing but pressed a crinkled piece of parchment into his free hand, stained black and curled at the edges.

Draco glared and wrenched his hand away, his good mood completely evaporated.

As he made his way past the entrance hall, down to the spiral steps that led to his father's library, he heard his mother's tea cup set hard against the wooden table.

A terrible smile of satisfaction, twisted with disused malice, parted Draco's lips, and he disappeared down into the dungeon under the stone building.

The lower he traveled, the colder it became, the earth pressing down on the dank hallway, lamplight from bracketed candles spilled inky gold along Draco's path, illuminating him in enthrall light, his hair like a hallo.

The room, circular, the wall a continuous book shelf, had no door. It didn't need one. The door Draco had entered was concealed by magic. Only a Malfoy could enter it.

It was by this magic that, as Draco stepped over the threshold, magical light bloomed into existence, a fire erupting in a sunken hearth in the middle of the floor, warming the dead cold even in summer time.

Leaning down into an oversized armchair, Draco brought his legs up to a crossed position, the letter he held still crushed within his pale hands.

A harsh noise, somewhere between a laugh and a cough, escaped Draco's lips as he turned the letter over and saw his father's crest burned into the parchment.

Shakily, reserved, he split the letter open.

_My son,_

What a wonderful mood his father must have been in when writing this…

_Let it be perfectly clear that I have every idea what you are up to during your Hogwarts days. I have eyes, Draco. I have ears, Draco. Do not forget that._

_As much as I am ashamed of your behavior this previous year- with that mudblood- the Dark Lord has presented you with a task which he believes will repair your damaged position within our hierarchy. _I_ believe you should be disowned, Draco, for your actions _are_ damning, but the Lord has other plans for you._

_If you don't accept what the Dark Lord wishes I will see to it that, even if I am behind bars- if for very long- you will suffer. _

_You and your little mudblood._

_Owl McNair when you have reached your decision and your task will be given to you._

_-Lucius Malfoy _

The letter popped and Draco dropped it in surprise.

There, on the floor, it curled and burned, flaming into ash upon the stone floor.

Draco stared at the spot for a few long moments, curled up upon the armchair.

_You will suffer… you and your little mudblood._

For the first time in a long while, Draco fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

* * *

A/n- sorry about the lateness. Oh and Hermione is going to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Draco can't owl her because it is unplotable. 

By the way, did you know that you can go onto my profile here at ff dt net to see chapter updates and news about the story? It's under the 'news' and 'status' sections'! Just thought I'd tell ya!


	3. Reaction

A/n- I dare say that I'm back into the mood of this fic. Yay! I am so excited about this story, especially when we get into the double-digit chapters. I can't wait to write those!!

Disclaimer: Should I even write these any more?

Summary: It's the end of summer, almost. Two days- including this one- until that Hogwarts train!

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate**

* * *

Draco had fallen asleep, fully clothed, out on the second story balcony of his room. He hadn't intended to, but it was so late when he had rested there, back against the glass doors, face tilted towards the night sky.

With the persistent chirping of birds did he twitch awake under the morning sunlight, the late August sunlight, and he raised his eyes to the cloudless sky.

He had been reading Hermione's single letter over again, for perhaps the hundredth time, tracing her words with his pale finger, grimacing at the weight he felt in his chest.

He hadn't been upset when he first got the letter, not the day of nor the day after, his mother's foul words buffeting all other emotions- besides extremely calculated rage- away from his mind. But then, a little way into July, it had officially 'sunk in'.

Late one night, after yet another row with his mother, after yet another unsuccessful attempt of her trying to figure out if Draco had owled McNair yet, Malfoy had sat down at his desk and pulled a piece of parchment toward him, hell bent on writing Hermione.

He stopping half way through the heading.

On into nearly two in the morning did he sit there, at that desk, staring at the ripped and ink stained parchment, trying to figure out a way to get to her, any way at all. He was clever enough, he could figure it out if he tried. But every time his eagle owl dipped out over the horizon, it would reappear the following night with the letter still attached, haggard looking.

If he could only persevere… just wait it out.

Draco had thought one evening, had rashly hoped, spread out on his bed, that he would take his father's offer, damn the one he loved, and give up on the heartache he felt and the ever present fear he was cloaked in.

But then, lesson learned. He had tried to protect Hermione in this way before, and look where it had gotten him…

Near death.

He couldn't do that. His heart was hers.

Now, all Malfoy had to do was choose between outright telling his father to drop dead or to agree to the Dark Lord's wishes and become, for lack of a better word- a mole.

That was what kept him up at night. That and the question of if he should tell Potter and Dumbledor his parent's and the Dark Lord's plans. Draco's feelings aside, if he was to forsake himself, become what he had told Hermione so many months ago- a blood traitor- he would need even the slightest amount of help; perhaps Wonder Boy and the old coot fit that description…

Groaning at the chill in his muscles, Draco rose to his feet, hand flying to his eyes to rub out the sleep. It had been a dreamless night yet again.

Yawning, he swung open the doors to his bathroom, his bare feet aching under the cold of the stone beneath.

Draco moved, slowly, to the washbasin, a pale red glass bowl fixated to the counter top. As his hands moved to the empty bowl, it filled, magically, with a hot hiss of steam. Disregarding his cloths, Malfoy cupped a handful of water and splashed it over his face and neck, the water running in rivulets down under his cotton shirt.

Pursing his lips, he pulled the collar up and over his head.

A maid had opened the windows facing Draco's bedroom, had packed his suitcases and trunks at the foot of his bed. It annoyed Draco that, with magic, his mother could have flicked her wand and it would have been done in half the time.

Did it please his parents that much to watch a muggle toile for a good thirty minutes trying to stuff socks between dress robes and his school tie?

A sneer curled his lip a fraction.

This place was disintegrating.

.o.o.o.o.

The morning sun was settled into noon when Draco had finally managed to get away from the manor and down to The Leaky Cauldron. He had refused to use the Floo network and flatly rejected the offer his mother made, when suggesting he and his things ride tag-along on a quick apparition.

Draco would rather walk. In the end, he hailed a Wizard Taxi to take him.

Instead of Draco taking his things, Narsissa would magic his belongings to his room at the inn a little while later in the day.

Upon entering the pub, Draco could clearly see that Hermione and her faithful companions had not arrived as of yet. He would just have to wait.

Tom looked up from his place behind the counter, where he had been chatting animatedly with another patron. The man looked slightly uneasy, seeing the shock of blond hair- certainly knowing who it attributed to.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy…"

Draco inwardly cringed.

"What can I see yu' for?"

"Ah-," Malfoy pulled out a few shiny coins, their glint reflecting upon the varnished bar. "Something cold?" He dropped the change onto the counter and the man across from him smiled with what Draco could only assume was_ relief_.

What, did he think Draco was going to curse him or something? Like everywhere the Malfoys went there was death and the dark mark…

Draco didn't finish that thought- better to just leave it alone.

Skirting the long oak table situated mid-tavern, Malfoy squeezed into a doublet, shoved back against one of the outer walls, facing the stairway but shielded from the sunlight by a huge crossbeam. There was only one chair.

Many of the patrons glanced up as he walked by, heading towards the smallest seat. They puzzled for a moment. Perhaps it was because he wasn't flanking his father, or that he neither donned wizards robes nor held that usual smirk- he looked plainly out of place.

After a moments nervous picking of the wood varnish with his finger nails, Draco's drink appeared, tall and frothing in front of him, the magicked glass ever frozen.

Draco's brows creased in mere skepticism as he lifted the drink to his lips; but he smiled a fraction as the cup's contents flowed smoothly past his lips.

Ah, something cold, caffeinated, and coffee oriented. Draco's pale eyes squinted in satisfaction and a lopsided smile crossed his lips.

Twice did Tom refill the glass, three more times did Malfoy refuse after that, the glass empty in front of him, still cold by the time the noon hour had ticked by.

Draco's foot tapped incessantly, either out of nerves or caffeinated twitch, against the floor and rung of the table, a crisp clicking sound issuing ever time his heel struck metal and wood. The motion traveled up from his foot as his knee bounced, then his fingers as they strummed the wood.

A nagging sensation made Draco shiver. Turning round in his seat, he scanned the rest of the pub.

Why did the have the intense feeling of eyes on him?

He glared around, lips pursing lightly before he brought the near empty glass to his lips again. Suspicion of every witch and wizard seemed ludicrous but, with the Deatheaters, it was completely plausible.

Malfoy felt under the microscope. He didn't like it.

Where were they?

A thrill of coffee laced panic shot up from Malfoy's chest and leapt into his throat.

Perhaps his father… oh god…

As Draco slid back his chair and stood in haste, he cracked his head upon the wooden girder, just as the door to the inn swung open. In a gritting pain, Draco's hands leapt to the back of his head and, sitting again, he pitched his brow forward, staring teary eyed at the table top.

A whirl of boyish laughter and giggles pierced Malfoy's threatening headache. The blond peered up at the door of The Leaky Cauldron, now open on its hinges, spilling forth six redheads a two other figures. Blinking rapidly, Draco's vision unblurred.

"Now, your father's got the rooms, boys! Here, Harry dear, take this for me." A plump woman with a bag under each arm ushered in the group and handed the figure next to her one of the bags. After her, two girls and a taller man followed.

Stunned into silence, hands still on the back of his head, Draco stared, lips parted in a silent noise.

There they were… late, but still…

Hermione, arms laded with Crookshanks, standing along side the Weasley girl, laughed at something the redhead had mentioned. Draco's heart, on the mend since his less-then-perfect summer, gave an uncharacteristic thump into his throat.

She looked the same. Same bushy hair, same frame under new muggle cloths and a maroon wizard's robe.

Oh he could run, go back to the manor, fall upon his knees in front of his father and the Dark Lord, save that pretty smile…

Draco silently chastised himself. He had to make up his mind. Either side with Dumbledor or not. Don't keep fantasizing about the 'what ifs'.

Banishing that thought, Draco stood sharply, for the group couldn't see him half hidden in the shadowy back of the large room. In his haste, his knee hit the edge of the table, rattling the cold bottle around till it tipped over and clattered against the grain.

Draco's hands shot out instinctively to silence and righten the upturned glass.

Everyone's attention turned at the noise; Malfoy's head shot up, his fingers clasping the cold bottle. At the same time, a small noise escaped the group now dragging their belongings into the inn. Draco saw Harry Potter twist around to glance at Hermione, a shocked look on his face.

It was as if he had come back from the dead.

Malfoy smirked, trying to recover the situation, feeling slightly off balance and embarrassed.

"Potter, brought your entourage?" But Draco's smile slipped as Hermione started towards him. "Herm-" As she practically fell into his chest, the breath was knocked out of him.

She was crying.

Draco gave a small smile and closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around the girl. He held her close and her breaths slowed and matched his gradually, as if she had been in disbelief that he was real.

"You all right?" He whispered into the top of her head. She nodded but didn't let go of his shirt. Malfoy chuckled softly.

Slowly, Hermione pulled away and Draco got a good look at her, raising his palm to cup the sides of her face. She smiled.

"I thought you wouldn't come." She let out one of those relieved laughs, eyes squinting.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I thought… I thought something would happen and we wouldn't know…"

Draco ran his thumb over her cheekbone and looked up at the group standing awkwardly off to the side. His gaze fell first on Ron, who was looking away, then on Potter, who was staring at him. At Hermione's words he blinked and looked at the ground.

Obviously that thought had been shared between the group.

"Well," He whispered, looking back at Hermione. "I'm obviously here." Hermione nodded.

Draco smirked, looking up. The Weasley parents had moved off to the counter to talk with Tom, the twins pulling the Weasley girl- who was very interested in what was going on- out the back door to Diagon Ally.

"Are your things here already?"

Draco nodded, catching Potter's eye as he looked down, the slight frown on Malfoy's face replaced by a smile when he looked back at Hermione.

"Good, we have to talk," She meant the _four_ of them, obviously. "About this summer. Why I wasn't able to…" Hermione trailed off. "What room are you in?"

"Twenty six."

.o.o.o.o.

The door to room twenty four clicked shut as Tom hobbled out of Ginny and Hermione's designated room, their trunks situated under each of the twin beds respectively.

Draco ran a hand along the fringe of one of the beds, flopping himself down upon the mattress, he slung an arm over the headboard. A slight sigh escaped his lips and his eyes closed momentarily, soaking up the feeling of not being on his feet. Silently, Hermione sat down next to him.

Harry had moved to sit upon Ginny's bed, his arms on his knees, bent forward with his chin on his hands.

Ron hadn't budged from the doorway. He looked stricken, nearly green, but he didn't speak. He had followed with the most reluctance and had not, as Harry had, shaken Draco's hand in greeting. In fact, Draco hadn't even offered Ron any kind of visual nor auditory confirmation of him being present- he was, in effect, part of the furniture.

Malfoy still didn't forgive him for the choice words he had used in Dumbledor's office at the end of last term.

"So…" Draco started, a hand over his brow. "I tried to owl you several times…" Hermione nodded.

"I was not at home, I was somewhere unplottable."

Draco looked a slight confused.

"For the Order, we were away at the Order's headquarters." Harry murmured from Draco's right. The blond turned his head sharply in his direction.

"The _Order_. So the Dark Lord was right… he had mentioned it." Draco scratched his chin absently, a wicked smile on his lips.

The three in the room fell deathly quiet.

"You… your in contact with Voldemort?" Harry murmured. Malfoy shook his head.

"Not since after my father was locked up in Azkaban."

Ron shifted uncomfortably by the door and Harry shot him a look. Draco, noticing this, smiled.

"You." He pointed at Ron. "You don't think I'm trustworthy, do you? You think Potter here's a nutter for telling me anything."

Ron scoffed.

"Draco…" Hermione whispered. "Dumbledor knows your trustworthy, we all do."

Draco's lips curled a fraction. "Dumbledor…"

Harry ran a hand over the bed quilt. "He was there, he knew Hermione had owled you. Some of the other teachers-"

At this, Draco give a little start.

"_Other_ teachers. How many _other_ teachers?" He didn't like the idea of the whole staff knowing he'd converted… knowing he was _thinking_ of converting… thought he was thinking of- whatever.

"McGonagall, Dumbledor naturally-"

"Snape?"

At this Harry stopped and squinted his eyes at the ceiling, thinking. Draco felt as if ice water had been forcibly poured down his throat.

"He wasn't there this summer, was he?"

Hermione shook her head. At this, Ron gave a growl and looked at Harry, seething, arms at his sides and hands in fists.

"I don't see why we're divulging any information to this… _dark_ wizard." The red head hissed, pointing at Draco.

"Dumbledor said-" Hermione started.

"I don't care!" Ron cut her off and Draco sat up a little straighter. "I don't care what _anyone_ says, he's his daddy's little _Deatheater_!"

"Don't you talk about me." Malfoy's voice was cool but with a sharp edge to it, dangerous. His gray eyes bore into Ron with malice. Ron took one look at Harry and wrenched open the door in disgust, striding out, the door banging shut after him.

Hermione shook her head and the three left in the room went silent.

Draco let out a eventual sigh.

"Snape is a Deatheater."

Harry nodded but looked concerned. "Dumbledor believes otherwise. He trusts Snape."

"That doesn't say much, he trusts _me_, apparently." Draco smirked, sitting up to run a finger through Hermione's hair.

"Is his trust misplaced?" Harry whispered.

Draco paused and dropped his hand onto Hermiones'.

"No." He said simply.

"Right." Harry stood up, seeing the need for the couple to do a little private catching up. "Well, dinners in a few hours…" It was actually in about five hours, but Harry assumed that even that amount of time would be little to the pair sitting across from him.

Harry shut the door with a soft click behind him.

.o.o.o.o.

It was after six, the sun had nearly sunk behind the buildings outside the window, but Draco and Hermione were still deep in conversation, her head on his shirt as they lay staring up at the ceiling.

Hermione grinned to herself as her head bobbed up and down, Draco's chest heaving as he let out a string of low toned giggles.

"I can't believe you were away for so long."

Hermione licked her lips as she felt Draco's hand in her hair, creating long rungs through it. As she moved her weight over to her side, she felt the too small bed creak dangerously. Draco's eyes went wide and they both laughed.

Draco watched Hermione as she got up and moved to the trunk at the bottom of the bed. Sighing, he tried to smooth out his shirt where her weight had wrinkled it.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to owl you." Hermione said finally. Draco scowled.

"I didn't mean to guilt you-"

"No, it's nothing you said, I've been feeling guilty all summer. I barely had my wits about me, my head was in the clouds." Hermione dipped into her trunk, pulling out her hairbrush.

Silently, Malfoy recalled the sleepless nights where he had cursed his love and wished for an end to the wait, the want.

"It matters little now, I'm just glad you're here."

Hermione laughed softly, bitterly. "So am I, even if I am the only one." The allusion to Ron's comments were heavily weighted. Draco slid onto the ground, bringing his arms back over his head, stretching.

"Weasel can get jinxed for all I care."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That would be a problem, seeing as you and he are mostly on the same team."

"I never said I switched teams." The pain in his voice made Hermione look sharply up at him. Her eyes narrowed and, letting her brush fall back into her trunk, she stood. Draco blinked at her, then looked away.

"Did something happen over the summer you're not telling me?" Hermione ran a finger over Draco's jaw.

"No, nothing."

"Look at me."

Draco turned to look into Hermione's soft brown eyes with his molten silver gaze. Her concern was touching, but he couldn't tell her about what his father had said. Not yet.

"Nothing." He said again, smiling and taking her hands, kissing her fingers.

Hermione blushed and Draco tilted her head up, brushing her lips with his.

Moments later, Malfoy clicked the door to room twenty four shut, Hermione ahead of him, already walking down towards the center of The Leaky Cauldron.

Almost as if Draco had to bottle up his frivolity, the boy stood outside the closed door a moment, letting a bit of the calm he felt with Hermione sink in. A noise to his left made him jump.

"Malfoy." Harry Potter closed the door to his room a few feet away.

"Potter…" Draco smirked, letting his hand slide of the door handle.

"Going to dinner?"

Draco nodded and followed the slight shorter boy a few paces before he stopped.

A strange look on his face, Draco turned to stare back down the corridor from where they came. His eyes darted from the door he had just shut, to the ceiling, then to the stout window at the end of the hallway, its white linen certain fluttering in the hot sunset wind.

"Malfoy?"

Draco's gaze darted back. Harry stood at the stairwell, a hand on the railing.

"You all right?"

Malfoy sneered. "Fine." Briskly, he strode down the rest of the hallway and past Potter, sliding out of the way so not to elbow the other boy.

He dare not look back, for whatever reason, he didn't want to.

A chill creeped down Draco's neck.

.o.o.o.o.

"All right all, so, dig in!" Mr. Weasley clasped and rubbed his hands together eagerly at the table before his family. They had arranged a dinner at the inn, everyone seated around the center table, food hot and steaming around the center.

Draco stared at his filled plate.

Hermione at his left hand, nudged him with her knee. Malfoy glanced up at the table.

He was sitting between Hermione and Winny- or Ninny- or whatever the mini-Weasel's name was. The younger girl's mother was next to her right and Mr. Weasley was at the head of the able. Draco look past the potatoes and caught one of the twin's eyes. The boy grinned and Draco smiled weakly- very weakly- back.

Ron, Harry, and the two twins sat opposite the girls and Malfoy.

"So, how was your summer?"

It took a moment for Draco to realize Mr. Weasley was talking to him. Staring, Draco forced himself to nod, trying desperately not to hear his father's dreadful voice in his head.

_Blood traitors, all of those muggle loving Weasleys. Especially that father of theirs, what a-_

"Fine." He choked out, quickly reaching for his water goblet.

"Ah, that's good. That's very good." The man smiled good-naturedly and for a moment Malfoy actually felt as if he cared about the question, as if he had truly wanted to know instead of it being a meaningless gesture. Malfoy felt ashamed that he had not answered the question with as much respect as it as given.

"Well," Mrs. Weasley smiled at the table. "It is very nice to have everyone together. We can finally do some catching up."

What she meant to say, Malfoy thought despairingly, was that they could finally catch up with _him_. Everyone had been together around summer** except** for _him._

Even Mr. Weasley looked skeptical; he was still trying to digest that the son of his worse enemy- a term used very loosely, yet quite effectively- was now eating with his family…. next to his daughter. Yes, he was still trying to grasp that.

The water glass was cool against Malfoy's tongue and, even if he drank nothing, it was comforting to feel the glass between his lips, his teeth. Draco bit the rim delicately.

A few more moments passed in silence.

"Are you not hungry?" Hermione whispered soothingly after Draco pushed another forkful of stew around his plate.

"I've never really had this before." He admitted, trying to sound stuck up rather then abashed, yet at the stares, he felt heat rise into his cheeks.

"You've _never_ had Cornish stew?" The girl to his right wondered aloud.

"Ginny!"

_Ahha_! It was '_Ginny_' then.

"Well," The girl shrugged. "Seems a little sheltered to me-" She raised an eyebrow at him. "For a Malfoy I'd think you'd had to have stew before."

Silently, eyes raised towards the ceiling, Draco wondered why him being a Malfoy had anything to do with the conversation. He took a deep breath.

"We usually have something smaller, well, when my father was at the manor." Again, the stuck up attitude didn't fly. He sounded like a poor street rat recalling his finer days. "I'm not used to such a big… er- family."

At this, and much to Draco's surprise, Mrs. Weasley beamed.

"We hope you can see us as family." The woman beamed; Ron dropped his fork onto his plate- his action hardly noticed- and looked as if he had choked on something. "If not now, soon enough Mal-" she paused. "Do you prefer Malfoy or Draco dear?"

"Oh god, Mum." One of the twins rolled his eyes, speaking though a mouthful of food.

"Not _Malfoy_, Mum." The other twin drawled.

"Sounds too much like his father." They said in unison.

"Draco's fine." Malfoy hid a smile with another swig of his drink.

The look on Ron's face was absolutely priceless.

* * *

A/n- okay, sorry about the lateness, school is in the home stretch and finals are a'brewen. (that sounds so calm despite what's really going on!). Thank you Mika, for an awesome betta!! 

Someone asked me wither or not this fic is going to pertain to Deathly Hallows. This will **not** be finished by the publication of HP number 7. The plot of this fic is completely written out and set in stone, so no matter what happens in HP 7 (if it has some similarities or extreme differences), I won't be taking any ideas from it!

Review! It gives me joy!


	4. Breathing

A/n- Thanks for the reviews guys!!

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter.

Summary: Dreams. Train. By the way, this chapter is a little choppy, but otherwise it would be WAY too log.

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate**

* * *

It was the first dream Draco had in a very, very long time and he wasn't sure he liked it.

Something about the damp walls on either side of him, closing in steadily, made him uneasy. Truly, if walls were closing in rapidly, ready to crush you, some would be panic stricken.

Not Draco.

He sat, on the floor, with impending doom calmly crushing him.

It was one of the strange apparitions of the psyche, when a full stomach and a chest aching from laughter turned on you, painting scary images upon the walls.

The edges of Draco's vision were blurry, and when he stood, he had to squint in order to see his hands.

Like feather touches did the wall brush his shoulder blades. Draco jumped and twitched as the cool stone pressed more readily against his spine. Annoyed, Draco inched away from the wall, bending his head forward. His forehead came into contact with the wall in front of him.

Was it getting darker?

The stone behind him was cold and as his hands were flat against the stone. Slowly, his back was straightened forcibly, the stone pressing on either side of him, making him stand up strait.

Draco could feel his hands move through the stone, yet his body was still stuck.

_Crushed by your own doubts, eh? _A voice whispered in his ear.

The wall behind Malfoy hurt terribly against his pale skin, as if a fire was burning there.

Panic raised itself within Draco's chest.

He was dying, he could feel the oxygen being pressed out of his lungs; it burned him.

Suddenly, he fell through the wall, pitching forward.

"Draco?"

Malfoy's eyes snapped open, a face looming over his; twitching, his limbs convulsed under his sheets.

"Bloody hell!"

The figure pulled away sharply as he barked the oath, a hand rushing to their heart.

Draco was clutching the sheets in a white knuckled grip, his head on the mattress instead of the pillow. Hermione was sitting calmly on his bed- had been sitting calmly- his start had given her a scare.

"What the hell are you doing?" He panted, more a whispered statement then a question. Hermione stared at him.

"You were talking in your sleep."

Draco gulped a breath of air, his heart beat slowing steadily. Sitting up against his headboard, he ran both his hands over his face and looked around. Hermione had thrown open the window, light pouring in onto the floor. It illuminated the room with a ray of heat and Draco was reminded of the day in summer when he had awoken to his cold bedroom.

Absently, he scratched his bare collarbone.

Hermione was already dressed, her muggle shirt fluttering about the sleeves in the warm breeze, her hair pulled back with a brown scrunchy.

"Why did you wake me up?" Draco didn't particularly mind, but she had scared him. She was also staring at him. Draco smirked softly.

"I- it's nearly ten o'clock," She said plainly, smiling sweetly, her gaze going from his naked chest to his tousled and tangled hair. She squinted a smile at the way it stuck up oddly at the back.

"Oh," Was all Draco said, pulling back the sheets to slide out of the bed. Hermione inched over so his feet could touch the floor. Malfoy moved past her as she stood to smooth the bed back into place. Draco shook his head absently.

They had house elves here for that.

Bending down at his trunk, Draco opened it with a click, the magical compartments bending to his touch.

"I brought you some breakfast. A muffin, something to drink. You kind of missed everyone this morning." Hermione sighed, her back to Draco as she stared politely at the wall.

Draco kicked off his silver boxers, pulling out a new pair along with black slacks and a green shirt. Murmuring to himself, he wrinkled his nose at the creases in one of the pant legs. His bare feet slid into them easily, the mar then barely noticeable.

"You can turn around now," He said coyly, pulling the shirt taunt and looking it over, checking for perfection.

Hermione rolled her eyes and fiddled with his wallet, the wallet she had given him, which was sitting on his night stand.

Pulling the shirt over his head, slipping on shoes, Draco closed back up his trunk.

"Do you have to go get your school books?"

Hermione nodded, handing Draco back his things. The boy grinned, running his fingers through his stalk white hair. Flipping open the wallet, he pulled out the blue ribbon he had kept there. Reaching over, he pulled off the tie that held Hermione's hair and wrapped the ribbon around it instead.

Hermione smiled and planted a sweet kiss on his lips.

The coldness that had set itself between his chest and his heart was shaken away, the nightmare slipping like fine sand through his fingers. He could barely remember it now.

"Ready to go?"

Draco raised his eyebrows at the muffin; Hermione grinned and placed it in his hands.

"Yep."

.o.o.o.o.

White beams of light ricochet off the windows and hoods of passing cars, throwing hot streaks across those walking upon the sidewalk. Up the street, a large gray building shadowed a roundabout of cars and pedestrians. Masses of people hurried in and out of the station.

"You do realize I'm carrying twice my body weight."

Hermione felt Draco's breath heavy on the back of her neck at he leaned in to drawl in her ear.

"You wanted to carry everything…" She grinned and pulled her books from the crook of his arm as they entered King's Cross station.

As the pair walked through the crowds of people, Hermione's hand brushed Draco's lightly. The girl smiled but Draco ignored it. Hermione shifted her books to the other arm.

"Hermione! Hermione!" Someone called up ahead. Ginny, perched precariously upon the cart trolley waved her arm over her head, surrounded by her brothers and her mother.

Draco was pulled along by the arm as Mrs. Weasley kissed her two children goodbye, the twins having stayed back at Diagon Ally.

"Are you not coming onto the platform?" Hermione murmured as the woman pulled her into a large bear hug, sticking the spines of her schoolbooks into her ribs. The woman pulled away and smiled brightly.

"Oh no, I've got to get back to headquarters! Remus is in need of some extra special attention these days."

Draco looked away.

Ah, full moon apparently.

"Now, now, the train is leaving soon! Off you all go!" The woman pulled Draco into a swift hug, nearly crushing the boy to her, even if she was a full head shorter. Malfoy stiffened but patted her shoulder gingerly. The rest of the Weasleys were already disappearing into the barrier.

Draco held the woman's arm as she unclasped his shoulder.

"Thank you," He murmured, eyes narrowed as if he had to search for the words. Mrs. Weasley patted his arm comfortingly.

"You stay out of trouble." She wagged her finger in his face, the other hand on her hip. Draco grinned as Hermione pulled him through the barrier.

The rush of laughter and pitched voices grew with increasing volume as Platform Nine and Three Quarters materialized in front of Malfoy's eyes.

"They'll save a car for us," Hermione murmured from his shoulder. She already had out one of her books and was thumbing through the pages. Draco had to swerve her around a group of first years running down the platform.

A hand on her shoulder, Draco steered Hermione and his trunk towards the car of the train where Ginny was hanging out the window talking to Hannah Abbot.

As Draco took a step around another first year and paused momentarily, a frown creasing his lips.

All he saw when he turned around was the bobbing heads of students and parents, yet he scanned the crowd.

"Draco?" Hermione whispered as he stopped.

"Malfoy," A voice to their left crooned softly.

"Zabini," Draco, a hand on Hermione's shoulder moved a pace back from the boy standing so close to his shoulder, having seemingly appeared there. A group of about six Slytherin boys stood behind their grinning leader, Crabb and Goyle among them, still looking as stupid as ever.

"It's good to see you back at school, Malfoy." The boy rocked back on his heels, his hands shoved deeply within his pockets. Although he grinned, the warmth never reached his eyes, and his cold gaze flickered over toHermione; they glimmered with malice and misplaced lust.

"What do you want Zabini?" Draco was already tired of the game he knew Blaise would play.

"Nothing," The boy smiled.

"Good," Draco grabbed Hermione about the upper arm and practically dragged her away. "Don't look at them," He hissed as she turned her head a fraction. Above them, the train whistle screeched and Harry pushed open the train car door.

"Here!"

Hermione lifted her trunk into the railcar and was pulled up to the platform. Draco swung his chest easily up onto the grate and Harry looked puzzled for a moment.

"Charm. Less heavy."

Harry's mouth formed an 'o' and the three of them opened the sliding door of the car open and stepped into the carpeted hallway. Once did Draco look back upon the platform. It was no surprise to him to see the Slytherins gone, but he had a nagging feeling at the back of his mind nonetheless.

The only car really open was the one Harry, Ron, and then Neville occupied. Harry had explained that Ginny had run off to sit with Luna and a few others. With Hermione and Draco, there would be enough seats, even with Neville.

As soon as the pair sat down, Ron stood up.

"Getting a drink, mate." He murmured to Harry before the door slid closed.

Draco smirked and leaned back into the seat, staring out the window of the slow moving scenery as they began to move. He let out a long breath and closed his eyes for a moment.

Perhaps this year would pass with little incident.

A small smile passed over Draco's lips.

"Neville…" Hermione said with a little laugh in her voice.

Perhaps the Slytherins would just forget he ever existed.

Draco opened one eye, then the other, turning to stare at the boy sitting across from him.

Neville, his toad clutched desperately against his chest, was staring wide eyed, pale as a sheet, at Malfoy, his mouth opening and closing silently.

Perhaps…

Neville let out a little squeak of fear as Malfoy caught his gaze, a puzzled look echoing in his blue eyes.

He looked like he was about to pass out or something.

Draco's shoulders hunched a fraction.

Perhaps…He could only _pray_

.o.o.o.o.

Hours later, the landscape before the compartment window had leveled and then regained its shape within rolling hills and wooded outcroppings.

Twice did Draco fall asleep against the glass, head lulled forward upon the cool comforts of the rumbling train, lulling him along with the friendly chatter around him. As his eyes closed, he heard Hermione laugh softly at something Potter had said. His soul felt comfortable then, as she leaned against his side, her back against his shoulder, her feet drawn up upon the seat.

He didn't dream.

"Draco?" Someone whispered close to his face.

Hermione brushed a few blond strands out of his face as his eyelashes flickered open.

"Hmm?" His voice came out scratchy from sleep.

"We're almost there, I'm going to go change, you should put on your school things."

"Mmm," Draco stretched as he sat up against the seat. Hermione smiled at him, a hand on his. She dropped it as she moved to the train car's door, going to Ginny's compartment to change, robes slung over her arm.

"Be right back." She smiled at Harry, who looked up from his school book. After the door slid shut, Harry stood and reached up to his bag, pulling down his school shirt, waking Ron in the process.

"Hey, get changed." He grinned and tossed Ron the last of the Chocolate Frogs. Neville was checking the back of his Frog card.

Draco shrugged off his cloak, Hermione having draped it around his shoulders as he slept. He smiled slightly at the thought of her kindness as he magically clicked open the lock of his trunk, pulling it down from the overhead rack, rummaging through it to find his tie and shirt.

Neville, having already been changed, murmured something about the toilet, and exited the compartment. An unnatural hush descended over the remaining occupants.

Malfoy, feigning ignorance of the murderous looks the Weasel was giving him, calmly placed his school shirt in his lap and peeled off the one he was wearing.

Ron's rapidly decreasing comfort was practically audible.

Harry tried to ignore it all, already buttoning his school shirt and fiddling with his tie.

Draco's own tie, folded perfectly and warded off of any wrinkles, lay across his neck, draping down across his chest. For a moment, Draco marveled at the way the silver reflected the lamplight. Glancing up, he saw Ron pulling on his shirt, his gold and red tie, and Malfoy smirked.

For some reason, perhaps the bleariness of sleep muddling his mind, Draco had a strange little thought.

How odd was it… that kin and color could destroy and divide such a people as wizards?

Green and gold and red and silver.

They were _colors_.

And he was Slytherin.

"Oiy!" A voice distracted Draco from his thoughts.

With a thrill Malfoy realized he had been staring.

Draco leaned back in his seat and sneered at Ron for good measure.

"Oiy!" The boy said again, pointing his finger in Draco's direction. Ron's school shirt hung loosely off one arm.

Malfoy blinked.

"Don't you play innocent, you snake." The Weasel's ears were pink by then. "You may be able to fool Hermione, Dumbledore, my own _mother_; but you don't fool me, _Malfoy_. I don't **trust** you."

Oh, so that was it then?

His **trust**!

Draco's lip curled; familiar dislike of the boy rose like bile in his throat.

"You know Weasley?"

Ron looked livid, yet set, as if he was readying himself for a punch. Neville had opened the compartment door and was looking around nervously.

Draco smiled as he chuckled softly, eyes turned up towards the ceiling. "I don't give a damn what you think." Slowly his gaze shifted so he was glaring at Weasley out of the corner of his eyes. "Put a shirt on for Merlin's sake, Weasel." The smirk on Draco's face grew he eyed the boy's bare chest. "My, my, looks like its mighty cold in here… doesn't it?"

Ron stared blankly for a moment, his face soaking in heat.

Without warning he snapped and lunged forward, Harry and Neville gave a start and attempted to hold their friend back.

Four compartments down, Ginny's head snapped up.

Echoing off the walls of the train car was a gale of malicious and slightly mad laughter.

Ginny's head swiveled around to stare at Hermione, wide-eyed.

Hermione glanced up, met Ginny's eyes, rolled hers', and shook her head.

"_Boys_." She murmured, buttoning the collar of her blouse.

* * *

A/n- Ah! Summer! I'm so glad I'm out of school!! 

Anyway, sorry for the wait! I think by now most have my routine down. If ya don't, here it is: I try and update every Sunday afternoon, as close to 12 pm (or if I miss that, 3 pm) as possible.

Next chapter coming soon, maybe sooner because now I'm outta school! YAY for HP&DH!

Review, it makes me happy and helps me write faster.


	5. Yes

A/n- Hey, just wanted to say thanks to all my reviewers, you guys are awesome.

Disclaimer: Nope.

Summary: A not-so-warm welcome.

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate**

* * *

Ginny and Luna had switched with Hermione and Draco for the remainder of the trip.

Ron, still fuming, steam nearly coming out of his ears had- quite angrily- told Hermione, arm outstretched, finger pointed at Draco, face beet red, that he would not, under any circumstances sit within ten feet of 'that Slytherin bastard'.

Hermione, not wishing to emulate any more animosity, calmly agreed and pulled Draco along to the deserted compartment.

He was still grinning when he slouched into the chair.

Hermione gave him a look.

"I, for once did not provoke it."

"For _once_." Hermione snorted, crossing her arms and looking very sternly at Draco. "You mean Ron-"

Draco bit down upon his bottom lip and nodded his head slowly.

"Exactly, it was the Weasel."

"You know, it probably would be a little _less_ infuriating for Ron if you said his name properly."

"Yes, but it wouldn't _nearly_ be as much fun."

.o.o.o.o.

The castle, at least to Draco, seemed to have changed from the years previous.

Perhaps it was only his imagination, but it felt so daunting and much more callous then his memory recalled.

Before, the winged boars never gave Draco a second thought, but as he slid Hermione down from their horse-less carriage, he found them watching him. Well, he felt like they were anyway. Malfoy had never interpreted their tusked grins as malicious or of ill intent, but tonight he did.

It was all he could do to keep Hermione's shoulder and ignore the way the sharp stone tusks jutted up past cold, frozen jowls.

The chill Malfoy felt then was certainly not from the cold.

Yet, a warm finger caressed his knuckles as the doors to the Hogwarts Castle were thrown open admits the throngs.

Draco glanced at Hermione, a warm smile gazing back at him.

_Be strong._

Draco reciprocated the smile and the gesture.

_I have no need to be, not with you by my side_.

"Hermione?"

The two saw Ginny squeezing through a pair of seventh year twins to get to them, her hair stuck up in a particularly messy bun, just like her mother.

"Hello….." Draco trailed off, mentally searching.

"_Ginny_." The redhead prompted, giving a very friendly scowl. She grabbed Hermione's arm. "Ron told me to tell you that-"

Hermione gave a tired little sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger.

"Merlin, we're not doing _this_ again, are we?"

Ginny nodded sullenly. "At least he's willing to _talk_ to you, instead of, well, ignoring you completely."

"That's loads better, Gin, thanks."

Their chatter was cut off as the group was herded into the Entrance Hall, many of the students having already overflowed into the Great Hall. Harry waved the three over and they all paused a moment for Neville to pick up his toad.

The Hall itself was glittering with its floating candles, casting long slick shadows over the walls. The chatter, loud then, died softly to a murmur as the group entered. Ron's laughing at a joke of Ginny's echoed among the cavernous quiet then left barren.

Either the Weasleys, Potter, and Longbottom were oblivious to the stares or simply immune. Either way they went- laughing still- to sit at the Gryffindor table while Hermione and Draco, on the other hand, were very aware of the looks they were receiving.

Draco stared defiantly at the students; his chin upturned a fraction, his eyes glittering with something akin to silent, murderous laughter.

Hermione, more weary under the scrutiny, moved first, her hand coming to a rest against Draco's forearm, just barely, before retracting as she moved away towards her friends.

Fighting a smirk, Draco took a few paces towards his House's table, but stopped short, all sick humor gone from his face.

Something was wrong.

Although never the one to be truly horror struck, Malfoy came as close to being thrown off-balance as he ever had, standing at that moment in front of the Slytherin table. His hands clenched and unclenched.

His seat, usually in the center of the long oak table, was occupied.

Malfoy made a motion, he didn't know why, it was a nervous twitch of some desperate feeling he couldn't grasp. His hand, near his pocket, moved slightly, his heel grinding the floor.

A few of the older Slytherins actually stood up, as if he would pull his wand on them or some daft thing of that nature.

The room was eerily quiet.

Draco squinted his eyes, force of habit.

The figure at Draco's place stood and the others at the table sat down heavily against the wooden benches. He was like their leader…

"Blaise…"

Zabini stared down the table, his eyes not meeting Malfoy's for a few seconds before an expert sneer curled his lips, making him look ugly and out of place.

Should have known. Draco sighed inwardly, his soul feeling heavy.

The way he was flanked at the Platform, like he was royalty, he should have known.

Malfoy smiled and many of the Slytherins stirred, unnerved by his casual appearance.

"Well?" He asked, still smirking.

Blaise, for a moment, looked lost.

"Where, Zabini, are you **placing** me, now that you have so kindly nixed my seat?"

Balise's teeth flashed white in the candle light.

"End of the table… behind the first years when they're sorted."

Malfoy didn't dare look up at the Staff Table, that would be weakness in their eyes, but he was dying to see Snape's face. Oh he begged himself to look, yet his pride resisted.

Without another word, Malfoy- the stupid smile still on his lips- started down the narrow row of Gryffindor and Slytherin seats towards the empty section of the table.

Not a single person breathed.

But Malfoy, he kept walking, strait past the end of the Slytherin table.

Rounding the Gryffindor table, he stopped behind the Gryffindor bench, next to Hermione, and promptly sat down.

The noise erupting then was such tumult that it shook the stars in the magic sky above the students. Some of the Gryffindor whooped, any victory over the Slytherins, even at a Slytherins' own sacrifice, was still a victory! Yet some of the red and gold howled in rage, how could they let an enemy at their own table? Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws on the other hand clapped and laughed at the display; and nearly all Slytherins were stunned into silenced- for mere seconds- before they broke into protests.

No one had ever _heard_ of a student refusing to sit with their own house.

The Headmaster tapped his wand upon the dais.

Nothing doing. The students still stood, shouting, hands gesticulating wildly.

Draco, Hermione on one side, Ginny on the other, Harry, and a scowling Ron across from him, sipped sweetly at a golden goblet of pumpkin juice. He felt _quite_ protected, even if he was- quite literally- in the lion's den.

Yet, inwardly, Malfoy cringed.

This was not how he would have preferred the year to start, not at all. But he wasn't going to let them… defile his pride like that. He **wouldn't**.

Draco's eyes snapped open when Hermione placed her hand upon his. The view he had then…it was as if he was looking at the world through a different lens.

He has never _seen_ the Slytherin table from such an angle before…

Oh, was his heart beating so fast.

"That is enough!" A booming voice echoed throughout the Great Hall with such a resounding note that again the stars quivered above. The candles in their floating brackets flared dangerously.

All heads swiveled up to stare reverently, if not frighteningly, at the Headmaster.

"I will not tolerate my students behaving like a pack of wild animals!" The great wizard's arms were outstretched. He looked truly terrifying. "You! You, you and you!" He pointed at the Slytherins who had risen. "Sit." Dumbledore lowered one of his arms as the students lowered themselves back into their seats.

As he spoke, the sorting hat was brought out on its little stool.

Still, Dumbledore stood in front of his students.

"No more of this…" He waved his hand tiredly. "Madness." At this last word, as he hobbled back up to his chair, looking pointedly at Draco.

Malfoy swallowed hard as he forced himself to glance, finally, up at the Staff table.

There Snape sat, one hand wrapped in a white knuckled grip round his goblet, his gaze cast somewhere off into nothingness, perhaps trying to ignore whatever shame his House had brought upon him. Obscuring Draco's line of sight, the group of first years trailed into the room to stand in front of the rest of the student body.

Harry leaned in across the empty table.

"That, Malfoy, was either very brave, or very stupid."

Draco grinned despite himself, and stole a glance at Hermione, her mouth drawn into a very thin line.

But then, before he could murmur any words of solace, the sorting hat began to speak…

_I was here when pure-blood ruled,_

_And when unity was prized._

_When heated battles through Houses fueled,_

_By self-centeredness and pride._

_I was here when talent reigned,_

_And when all were equally respected._

_When animosity and hate did stain,_

_All wizards were infected…_

_The time of the past has come once more,_

_It would be wise now to take heed._

_For high or lowly, rich or poor,_

_You're talents of all we need._

_You may scoff or whine at my regards,_

_Value loyalties and family higher._

_But if we fall, you fall as hard,_

_For with evil you did conspire._

_But now I caution! All Houses hear,_

_For this warning I say not twice._

_Keep all friends close 'an to you dear,_

_Lest_** death**_ to them suffice!_

Not a word was uttered after _that_ little montage.

Malfoy let out a tiny breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He glanced up from the table, met Ron's eyes. The other boy shifted in his seat and whispered.

"So much for subtly."

Even Dumbledore looked as if he hadn't expected what had come out of his old, tattered hat.

The hat itself, it twisted upon its stool to glance- if it could glance- around the hall.

"Well?" It wheezed, the rip widening. "Up you go, first years! Come on!" But the students looked terrified.

McGonagall cleared her throat, rolling out her parchment and Draco, eyes cast towards the Headmaster, began to tune the woman out.

.o.o.o.o.

Nearly an hour, the students were happily fed, and although the animosity that had run rapid earlier on in the evening had been somewhat quieted, beneath the puddings and cakes, tension continued to undercut the happy chatter. It was hardly noticeable.

Hardly.

And Malfoy wasn't eating much.

"Just another dinner roll." Hermione split one and placed it on his plate, patting his pale hand. Draco rolled his eyes.

"No." He whined softly, pushing the plate away. Hermione huffed as she finished her chicken. "Sorry." Malfoy murmured, taking the roll into the palm of his hand, then he glanced up at the Slytherin table. Crabb and Goyle were shoving food into their mouths.

"That'll make you loose your appetite." A voice quipped to Draco's left, wrought with humor.

Ginny grinned as she slurped down her drink.

Draco hid a smile.

"Mr. Malfoy."

The voice made Draco give a start, the bread falling onto the plate. Swiveling around in his seat, Draco's silver stare leveled with the Headmaster's half moon spectacles. He hadn't even heard the old man come over.

Malfoy blinked blankly up at the man.

"I'd like to speak with you in my office."

The man's gaze was warm, yet calculating, as if he was not looking _at_ Draco, but _through_ Draco. Malfoy had to suppress a chill- not of fear- but of something he couldn't name.

Reverence?

Hardly.

The old fool…

"Yes, Headmaster."

Draco slipped his hand out from under Hermione's as he stood. The room went quiet again, but this time nothing unexpected happened, everyone just stared as the pair walked out of the Great Hall. Once did Malfoy glance back at Hermione, who was watching, a look of relief on her face.

Draco smirked back.

As the old man and his young student walked the halls of the castle, neither said a word, although Dumbledore did place a comforting hand upon Draco's shoulder.

Under any other circumstances, Malfoy would have wretched, pulled away, but the knowledge the old man had concerning Draco's summer suppressed his usual distaste. In fact, as the spiraling staircase jumped into life in front of him, Malfoy found it hard to grasp those nasty little thoughts he had reserved towards Dumbledore at all.

"Toffee?" Dumbledore outreached a palm towards Draco as he drew the boy a chair- opposite his large desk.

"What? Oh. No, thank you. I prefer Acid Pops."

Why was he saying this?

"Oh yes, I did like those as a young student- many, many years ago. But it seems, hmm, you know, indigestion catches up with you, hmm?"

"…right." Was all Draco could muster as he took a seat. "I'm assuming this is due to my behavior, right?" The last word came out in a drawl.

"Actually, I had wanted to speak to you privately before that show of yours."

Draco bristled.

"I wasn't going to let them-"

Dumbledore smiled. "Apologizing? Trying to make excuses for their actions? You have wronged them Draco, how else would you have expected the Slytherins to act?"

Malfoy sat, silent, looking around the Office. The little whirling trinkets sparkled upon their rosewood cabinets and lined bookshelves.

"Are you _siding_ with them?" Malfoy allowed the words to slip through his teeth.

"Oh, heavens no." The old man chuckled and Draco found a smile appearing upon his own lips. "But what you did tonight…" He became grave and serious. "Do not make enemies, Draco." And it was then that the Headmaster sat back in his chair. "For your sake and for those you wish to protect, do not make enemies."

Draco looked away and bit his lip.

"I know," Dumbledore continued. "It will be hard, especially with what I wanted to speak to you about…"

Malfoy looked back.

"I know you and Ms. Granger are still close, as I predicted from the end of last year. She spoke to me, this summer, concerning you."

Within Draco, a swell of pride and love grew.

She thought of him.

"Ms. Granger wants you to be protected by The Order."

Malfoy blinked stupidly.

"She what?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"Not only did I think it was a good idea, but I believe that you, Draco, could help us."

"As a s_py_." Malfoy spat. This was the issue, he didn't think it would have been brought up so quickly, but this was the issue he had been wrestling with all summer.

Take the offer, damn his family, possibly end your life and Hermiones' .

Refuse, cower behind your father, save your life and Hermiones' but be a murderer of so many others.

"Now, I'm not asking for a clear decision tonight, Mr. Malfoy. I know how hard this may be for you, the hate for Mr. Potter and his-"

"I don't hate him." Draco said quickly, but Dumbledore ignored the little outburst.

"-friends run deep. Your father is very influential. However, if you do help us, you will be protected and you will help save the Wizarding world."

Malfoy burst out laughing, a short, harsh little bark.

"Me? Save anything?"

The Headmaster looked mildly confused.

"Last time I checked, that was **Potter**'s job, that was! _Save_ the Wizarding world! Let Wonder Boy do it!

At this, Dumbledor's gaze became a mixture of laughter, knowing, pity, and love- how that worked, Draco couldn't tell, but the man was nearly beaming.

"Draco…you will learn of your importance in this battle between good and evil, I am certain of it. You may not be chosen by birthright or prophecy, but that does not mean you are unimportant. You will learn soon enough… it will not be the powers of one, but the strength of many that will win this war."

Draco mumbled, fiddling with his robe's pocket

"Fine." The boy sneered into the ground, he gaze cast downward. "I'll do it."

"As I said, I did not expect an answer-"

"No." And now Draco sounded rushed, breathless. "I'll do it."

Dumbledore smiled.

"I believe Ms. Granger is waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs."

Draco got up quickly, the chair sliding back.

'Oh, and Mr. Malfoy…"

Dumbedore's words made Draco pause halfway to the door, made him turn a quarter of the way around.

"Yes, Headmaster?"

"If there is anything troubling you, anything at all, don't be afraid to call upon me or Professor McGonagall. We are, Mr. Malfoy, essentially on the 'same side', we are a team- as it were- and if a member of The Order is in need, we do provide. Remember that."

"Yes sir."

Draco's hand lay lightly on the cool brass door knob.

Made your choice. He said quietly to himself.

And he smiled.

* * *

A/n- see? ON SUNDAY! 

Okay, so I would have gotten this up on, say, Friday, but I had my wisdom teeth- all four- extracted on Thursday. So, I've been writing through a haze of pain and Vicodin, with the computer screen going all psychedelic on me.

Any suggestions on stuff to do when your home looking like a chipmunk?

Next chapter soon!

Review, it helps my pain!


	6. Breaking

A/n- Not much to say! Thanks so much for the reviews, it made me feel a lot better- I'm almost one-hundred percent.

Disclaimer: I do not own HP.

Summary: Ooh, classes, what fun!

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate**

* * *

It was around eleven when Draco finally murmured the dungeon's password, let himself in, and nearly collapsed onto the Slytherin couch. Delicately did he let his hand cover his brow, shielding his view from the empty, fire lit room.

Flames danced behind his vision as the heat from the smoldering embers cast eerie shapes upon the walls, the hearth rug.

Malfoy smiled in a cheeky, schoolboy kind of way- unguarded.

He still felt Hermione's lips upon his pale neck.

When she had first seen him, as he walked slowly down the spiraling steps, one foot in front of the other, a hand out against the wall to steady himself, she could hardly keep from bounding up to him. Malfoy had noticed. The way she wanted to fret over him, coo him, yet she held it back.

It made him proud to see her anxious at the bottom of the stairs, aware of his own strength and his own need.

But when he reached her, it was he that held her in a tight embrace. His cloak, wrapped round her shoulder blades, allowed her to move into the warmth of his frame, encircle his chest with her arms.

After a long moment then, she spoke.

"What did he say?"

Draco let out a fretting sigh.

"I'm expelled."

"What?!" Hermione pulled away with an outcry.

She spotted his smirk, his chin lifted so he looked down to her.

"Oh, you horrible little ferret!" Hermione pressed a palm to her chest. "Don't _do_ that to me." She glared at him, a hand clutching at the sleeve of his robe.

Draco rolled his eyes playfully, a smile dancing in the dim light.

"Sorry… no, I said I'd do it."

The side of Hermione's lips quirked upwards as she lifted her hand to Draco's ashen cheek. Grazing, from temple to chin, she stared, near wondrously at him.

"Are you being serious?"

Her parted lips were such an invitation. Draco smiled and nodded slowly, wishing her hand would continue its long motions across his cheek.

"Oh, god, Draco!" She hugged him again, but Draco evaded the embrace, bending instead to kiss her lips. Hermione, caught off guard, gave a short little gasp into his mouth. A murmur of laughter bubbled up from Draco's chest, causing the kiss the tremble.

Draco, sitting by the Slytherin fire, smiled, tilted his head back over the couch, and let his arms splay wide against the plush softness.

Oh, he loved this couch.

He could _sleep_ this couch.

Yet, he had Potions tomorrow- as well as Defense Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic- and, well, he was **not** looking forward to seeing the Gryffindors, the Slytherins, _and_ Snape in the same room, so the more rest he could get, the better.

With a tiny moan of fatigue, Draco stood and unclasped his robe in the same motion. The inky black cloth slid over his hands like water, like wet silk over black slate stone. With a narrowed gaze did Malfoy pull the Slytherin crest taunt over his palm.

The snake's fangs sparkled in the firelight.

Yet, it was only stitching, wasn't it?

Tentatively, Malfoy drew a long finger over the crest. Eyebrow raised, he looked at the pad of his digit. It was stitching after all, not real fangs, not real blood.

For the first time- not in the Great Hall, not at the Platform- did Draco feel like a stranger in his own domain. Looking up through silver lashes, Malfoy took in his surroundings.

These people,_ they_ had real fangs; _they _could draw real blood.

Best to look … preoccupied.

Look unnoticeable.

Draco smirked.

Like _that_ was possible.

Sighing, Draco stepped down into his Common Room, swinging the door open quietly, taking pains not to wake any of his fellow Slytherins. He saw Blaise was asleep, as was Crabb; a few other boys were missing but Goyle was still up, his bed on the complete opposite side of the room.

He was…

Draco did a double take as he pulled off his cloak.

He was reading?

The boy must have noticed the stare, because he looked up over his illuminated wand, eyes magnified under a pair of small reading glasses. At Draco, he turned pink, and tried to focus back to the book he was absorbed in. Although he appeared to be reading, Draco saw him squirm and he wondered just how much Zabini was forcing them to do his bidding. Come to think of it, probably just as much Malfoy had- maybe even more.

Draco tried a weak smile, but the boy did not return it. Malfoy rolled his eyes when he turned his back, slipping out of his shoes and socks, pulling off his school slacks and placing his wand on his pillow. After he was dressed for bed, his picked up his wand again. Running it next to his head, he murmured a little charm. Instantly was his tangled hair smooth again, instantly was his face again clean and his teeth then brushed.

Draco licked his lips, a pleasant minty flavor playing upon them. Oh god did he adore magic.

Glancing up at Goyle, Draco saw he was still reading.

Who would have thought? Next the boy would be making intelligent conversation! Oh the horror of it!

Draco smirked as he pulled back the summer blankets on his bed, his wand still in his hand. For a moment, as his skin was cooled and goosbumped against the cold cloth, he was afraid to let go of the thing. It was a silly thought, yet, he wasn't sure he liked the idea of his wand laying idle while he slept next to those he had betrayed.

As Draco's bed was closest to the door, Blaise's was directly to his right. Malfoy looked over and saw the hangings on the other boy's bed were drawn shut.

He tried to lay more comfortably, the sheet just below his shoulder.

His wand was still in his hand.

Reluctantly, Draco reached out to place it on his bedside table. Mid-motion, he paused, thought a moment, and then stored it under his pillow.

.o.o.o.o.

The _pleasant_ sound of screaming and laughing teenage boys woke Draco with a good start. He twitched, his hand shooting up to grab his wand. It took a few moments of laying completely still and listening to the chatter for his heart to stop beating in his throat like he was about to have a heart attack.

"I heard Snape's not teaching Potions any longer."

"What?"

"Defense Against the Dark-."

"Are you serious?"

Groaning, Draco turned over and attempted to pull his pillow over his head, but realized he was still holding his wand. Glaring, he sat up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Looking around, he saw that everyone was already up.

Conjuring his cloths, he grimaced at the way the Slytherin snake looked so harmless in the morning light- what had he been thinking? Monsters in the dark-ha!

A slanting smirk and Malfoy was up and heading out of the Common Room, hoping not see a soul on the way down to breakfast before realizing he'd slept through it. Grumbling, Draco pulled his books into the crook of his arm and made his way along the hallway to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Malfoy actually took the long way, the way other students usually took instead of the Slytherin shortcut. That was, at least, a way he could avoid any nasty looks from his peers. Atop one of the staircases, he spotted Hermione, Potter, and the Weasel.

He didn't move, tried to look casually stoic. A sneer curled his lip as he watched them descend, laughter dancing in his eyes. As they reached him, he tilted his head a fraction and a small smile lit up his pale face. Hermione blushed and took the next few steps a little quicker.

Draco held her against his side as the staircase jumped to life.

"How are you?"

Hermione took a deep breath, a wildly excited expression beaming from her face. "Anxious. First day of classes. Although I'm sure I'm the only one who's thrilled." She sent a condescending glance to her fellow Gryffindors. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Don't tell me she spend time actually studying before we've even had the lesson." Draco crooned over her head. Harry shook his head exasperatedly.

"Not before trying to get us to study with her."

Hermione smiled sheepishly and Ron ignored everyone completely. Harry scrunched up his face after a moment's pause.

"Did you hear anything about Snape?"

Draco felt oddly offended. "No, Potter. Why would I care what that man does?"

"I heard he's got the Defense Against the Dark Arts position."

Draco felt as if he choked on the air he breathed. "What?" He sputtered. "That's impossible!"

Hermione clutched her books tighter to her chest.

"Well, we'll see in a moment, won't we?"

The classroom, usually brightened by the long windows, was as dank and musty as ever. Draco had the distinct impression that gloom and evil just followed Snape around no matter what room he was in. The only illumination were the long candles in brackets on the walls.

The four of moved to a table against the wall, but Malfoy moved into the corner, just the way he wanted. Unnoticed. Hopefully unnoticed.

Hermione looked torn from wither or not to sit with Harry and Ron in the middle of the back of the room, or with Draco on the side. Malfoy, for one, felt that even if he was siding with Potter, he didn't need to become a part of his little fan club. He'd avoid the boy best he could.

Old habits, it seemed, died quite hard.

In the end, Hermione sat next to Draco. After a moment, she squirmed in her seat, unaccustomed to sitting in the back of the room.

"I hope I'll be able to see."

Draco grinned, spilling his books on the desk in front of him.

An odd jumpy feeling coursed through his veins as the time till class slowly ticked down. Malfoy wasn't sure if he liked it, a worried look twisting his face. It wasn't Snape, he wasn't _frightened_ of Snape. 'Frightened' was not the word, not by a long shot.

He was terrified of the power the man possessed, not the man himself. Oh, _he wasn't a Deatheater_- that was laughable. Hadn't it been Snape his father had raved about his first year at Hogwarts? Snape! The only person close enough to Dumbledore...

Oh, there was no mistake that every move Draco made that year would be reported with much regularity to his parents, courtesy of the Slytherin Head of House of course.

His parents.

"Oh damn."

Hermione stole a glance. "What is it?"

"Nothing, I just-" He had forgotten his mother's incessant pestering about McNair, his father, the _Dark Lord_. What if they had become suspicious?

"Draco…"

He had to Owl her. Tell her he needed just a little more time; get settled into term before he had made a clear decision about what his father had asked of him.

"Draco?"

Atop the spiral staircase, the large door leading to the Professor's office banged open.

"Dra-"

"That is enough!" Snape's voice hissed, cutting through the chatter. Malfoy shook his head at Hermione, who fell silent. He looked up to see Snape dart a glare in his direction; Draco did his best to look just as menacing. He wasn't sure he had pulled if off. "There will be no idle chit chat and disruptions in my class"

The Slytherins grinned and Malfoy watched Zabini slide his feet up so he was leaning back in his chair.

"Now," Snape waved his wand at the chalkboard, the white block darting up to begin scribbling furiously on the rough surface.

_Defense Against The Dark Arts: Year Six_

"For this lesson," The man's nostrils flared as he folded his arms, squinting around at them. "And for this lesson only will you be using those idiotic text books." He paused. "Well? Get out your textbooks!" The class moved instantly to fish their bags up from the floor, pulling out their heavy literature.

Snape smiled; it was terrible. He looked like a cat that'd just caught a plump juicy mouse.

He had won. He had been given the most influential and most powerful teaching position on the Hogwart's Staff and he knew it.

Malfoy grimaced.

"Now," Snape folded his hands together. "Because _all_ of you have undoubtedly completed your Summer homework…" He took some kind of sick pleasure in the looks on a few of the student's faces. "We'll begin by skipping the Forward chapter, the Explanation, and Chapter One. Begin on Chapter Two. Take notes. Concentrate!" The students started rummaging around for quills and parchment. "And no talking!" Draco was mildly amused at the way he stared at Potter and the Weasel when he stressed the last part.

"I've already finished outlining chapters one through six." Hermione sounded nearly devastated. "Do you think we'll be outlining chapter seven too?"

"Who cares?" Draco mumbled, trying to concentrate, a hand running through his shining hair.

"_I_ care."

"Well, that makes one of us then, doesn't it?" He drawled. Hermione pursed her lips

"No talking!" Snape snapped from his patrolling through the rows of students. The way his elbows stuck out- it made him look like an overlarge bat.

"I should tell him I've already outlined it." Hermione fidgeted.

"You'll do no such thing. I don't want him looming over us."

"But-"

"Miss. Granger, Mr. Malfoy, if you do not cease your incessant chatter I'll-"

Malfoy looked up and locked eyes with the Professor. Snape's gaze was cold, yet Draco's was just as fierce. How _dare_ he talk to him like that- like he would Harry Potter- like some lowly student.

"Stop talking." Snape hissed in a low, dangerous voice. Malfoy's lip curled. "Now."

Yet, it seemed as if the couple in the back of the room we're the only ones being chastised. Pansy was, for one, giggling her damn little Slytherin socks off in the front row. Draco was constantly looking up, torn away from his work by another annoying little shriek of girlish frivolity.

He wished she would either shut up, of explode already, for her hiccoughing was gaining in pitch.

More then once did his attention swerve so that he took the same line of notes twice.

"Oh, stop Blaise! You're just being silly!"

Draco wanted to gag.

Instead- of gagging or taking notes- Malfoy allowed himself to tune out not only Pansy's simpering, but also the words on the page in front of him. Tilting his head up from his textbook, he watched Hermione bent over her work.

As she scribbled, making another tic mark in the column, a lock of hair fell into her face. She puffed at it, once, and it fluttered up only the sink back down into her gaze. Draco suppressed a smile; her quiet determination, the way her shoulders hunched when making out a particular word, it was all strangely priceless.

His favorite part was when she became so intensely absorbed in her work that she held her breath when writing a bullet point down on her parchment; as if the motion was needed such as breathing was pushed by the wayside. When the line was done and period marked, her breath came out in a tiny sigh which ruffled the paper. Malfoy watched her breasts heave delicately as he breathed

Draco's quill had stopped mid-dip as he stared; he hadn't moved in a good minute and a half, maybe two. He hadn't noticed that Snape had been hovering over his head the entire time

He _did_ notice when a tuft of his hair was grasped about long, thin fingers, his neck becoming instinctively ridged for fear of being scalped.

Snape pushed the boy's head back down so it was millimeters away from the textbook. The man's anger was so concentrated that his hand shook, thus jittering Draco's head so the text he was staring at blurred.

"When I say concentrate I mean for you to do your work. Mr. Malfoy." Draco could tell he was trying very hard to keep his voice level and even. The whole class turned round to stare. Oh, he knew Snape had been waiting, just _waiting_ since the Feast to corner Draco, humiliate him. "Not stare at your-" The man struggled and Draco thought for a brief, blinding, terrifying moment he was about to say 'mudblood'. "_Girlfriend._"

"Yes Professor." Draco's breath hit the book and rebounded into his face.

"Yes- what, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape was speaking through gritted teeth.

"Yes, sir." And the grip on his head was relieved, but not before a few strands of silver-gold were parted from his scalp, having been tangled between the Professors' Slytherin ring. The spot where his hair had been pulled- a small number of hairs pulled out- smarted a little, but Draco didn't touch it. He wouldn't look weak.

Instead, he raised his head a fraction from where it had been pressed into the book and stole a glance at Hermione. Her mouth was hanging open; eyes shinning with what he thought were distressed tears. Draco shook his head fractionally and scribbled out.

_I'm fine._

On his parchment.

Hermione didn't move and the ink in her quill dripped onto the table. She closed her mouth and set her feather down. Draco stiffened.

Don't you stick up for me. He though.

Hermione's hand found his under the table, where Snape couldn't see.

Draco relaxed to her touch.

It was only a year.

He could survive a year.

.o.o.o.o.

Hermione bid Draco goodbye after that evening's classes and dinner in the Great Hall- where Draco again sat at the Gryffindor table, much to the chagrin of glaring Slytherins.

"How long is he going to be doing this?" Ron had asked Hermione over a bowl of something warm and steaming. Hermione looked puzzled, Draco glancing up from where he was buttering a slice of toast.

"I don't know what you're getting at." Hermione blinked at the redhead.

"How _long_ is he going to be doing _this_?"

Malfoy put down the butter knife, mildly amused, an interested smile playing about his lips- it came off more like a sick smirk. Harry raised an eyebrow over his goblet.

"I don't know Ronald, why don't you ask Draco."

"Yeah, _Ronald_" Ginny simpered as she sat down next to Harry. The group looked at her. "Okay, sorry, what are talking about?" Her brother shot her a look. "Sorry, I couldn't resist."

Ah, the mini- Weasel.

"Ron was just asking Draco-"

"Wasn't asking _him_ nothing, was I?"

"I think I'll stay as long as I'm welcome." Draco clipped; his neatly cut syllables cutting above the other's speech. Ron grimaced, but Harry looked quite impressed.

The boy nodded thoughtfully. "We'll take your word on that, Malfoy."

Ginny stretched her hand over to grab a spoonful of mashed potatoes, her other hand having to lift up the sleeve of her robe so it didn't dip in the food. "Well, at least two of us don't mind you, Draco." Both Ron and Malfoy looked at her.

Draco squinted at her.

Cheeky little Weasel.

Ron's face, heated, turned towards his sister. "What to do you mean _two_ of us?"

"Oh don't be thick. I don't mind him, and I don't think Hermione does, so, that makes two then, doesn't it?"

Harry actually started laughing.

After, Draco and Hermione had bid everyone a good evening, Hermione insisting she had to study and Draco just being completely exhausted- in truth, he wasnt going to just sit there with Hermione gone, was he?

Ron had left even earlier then they, having just gotten up and walked away.

"Do you want to meet me, later tonight?" Hermione leaned against the Gryffindor portrait hole. Malfoy, who had already kissed her goodnight, stopped half way down the staircase. Turning round, he raised an eyebrow at her.

"You said you had to study." A smile threatened to break his cold expression. His weight shifted to his back foot as he climbed the stairs once more.

Hermione just shrugged, eyes leveling up to meet his. Draco smirked.

"I don't _have_ to, actually."

Draco made a fainting gesture with his hand, holding it up to his forehead. Hermione pursed her lips.

"Alright then, where? When?" Draco didn't really have to ask; he wanted to hear he say it. His pale hand looked white against the curl of her hair. Hermione just smiled and pulled away, putting up both her hands, fingers splayed wide. 10. Whispering the password, she slipping inside the portrait hole.

Malfoy shoved his hands into his pockets; his cloak pulling comfortably on his shoulders, as he made his way back to the dungeons His good mood was only slightly dampened by the prospect of having to see the Slytherins.

You know, he had a good two hours; he could go to the Quiddich pitch, get some of his Slytherin gear and do a few laps around the goalposts. That would be a nice way for him to avoid his House.

As the stone snake jumped aside, Draco was graced with the sight of a large group of students huddled round the center table. Balise and another student kneeled in the middle, a game of Wizard's Chess between them. Pansy hung on to Blaise's arm.

A great cry went up and the mass of ten or twelve students jumped back- howling with laughter. Blaise's opponent's Knight went flying off the table in a few marble chunks.

Malfoy stood for a moment, his body twisted round so his shoulders faced the game. Bemusement flickered in his eyes as he watched; his face calmly blank. He felt, rather than consciously made, his hands ball into fists within his cloak.

After a second, Zabini paused and glanced over, his face pinched. The game got a little quieter. Draco sneered back and walked down the steps to his room, throwing open the door.

He saw Marcus Flint at the large wardrobe in the back of the room- the Slytherin team having been keeping their equipment in their House rather then down at the Quiddich Pitch. His father had suggested it.

_Wouldn't want the other Houses to tamper with your prized possessions, would you?_

Now, Draco surmised it was probably just because his father didn't want his money to be wasted on equipment that was stored out in the elements rather then him giving a damn about their 'possessions'.

"Flint." Draco hissed as he stood behind the boy, the other's bunk making it impossible for Malfoy to reach into the locker. The boy stiffened.

"Wud'ya want, _Malfoy_?" Flint curled his lip and didn't turn around.

"My things. My broom. Flying gear. It's nothing concerning you."

A low, sickening chuckle oozed out of the boy's lips. "Not yours anymore." Malfoy, shocked, could feel his blood pressure rise.

"And why would that be, _Marcus_?" He was careful not to shout

The boy laughed again, stepping away from the locker and pushing the door closed. "You're off the team."

Draco felt the world tilt dangeriously.

"What?" Malfoy's brow knit, his head pitched a slight forward. He wasn't sure he heard right.

"You're off the team. We've found a new Seeker. You've been **replaced**."

He couldn't believe what was happening.

"It's **my** broom, you troll!" Draco hated the way he sounded like a little child.

"Actually, Malfoy, they were a gift from your wonderful father." Flint towered over the shorter boy. "It's my call to revoke as I see fit, I _am_ the captain." Draco's mouth opened and closed silently. "And don't use that 'my father' bullshit, Malfoy. He can't help you now." He lowered his voice. "As if he'd want to- you're a disgrace."

Draco's chest rose and fell sharply.

**Replaced**.

"Who?" He asked breathlessly.

Marcus Flint opened his mouth, but Draco raised his hand to silence him.

"Don't tell me." Livid, he closed his eyes, shook his head. "Don't bloody tell me." Malfoy turned and stormed out of the dormitory. Flint called his name in warning, but Draco's vision was swimming red.

"Zabini!" He roared as Flint sprang through the door behind him.

The chess game stopped and all heads turned. Blaise, mid move, stopped to stare. His shocked face bled away to a malicious smile.

Draco's chest heaved with anger, his lungs burning.

Blaise stood, his stature being a good three inches taller then those around him. Calmly, he excused himself off Pansy's grip and out of the inner circle. Walking up, he stood an arms length away.

"I'm in the middle of a checkmate, Malfoy, what do you-"

"You know." Draco cut him off. "I was fine with your coup d'état. I was fine with your snide comments and you're prancing around like you bloody own the Slytherin House!" He was yelling now. "I was fine- brassed off- but fine, with your petty little remarks about Hermione! But you're damn cocky- out of your mind- if you think you can-"

"Draco!" Pansy's high, sickening voice called to him from the couch where she gripped the leather in a white knuckled grasp. She looked frightened- of him or Blaise, Draco couldn't tell.

Malfoy pointed at her over Zabini's shoulder, right arm up.

"You shut up!"

In a quick motion, the back of Blaise's left hand came up and knocked Draco's away. "Shove off Malfoy." The taller boy looked bored. Draco's eyes became wide as saucers, his body nearly shaking with rage.

There was a silent pause and Draco made a move- not for his wand, he didn't know why he didn't reach for it- but instead he pulled back the hand that had been pushed off- his knuckles curling into a punch. His torso twisted as the arm came back. He was going to kill him; he was going to kill Zabini.

Before he could snap back the punch, Draco felt something hard sticking up and into his ribs, beneath his cloak. He froze, his body twisted. Blaise's wand tip dug hard into his side. Malfoy tried to look stoic, but a flicker of pain crossed his face.

Zabini smiled, bloodthirsty, and twisted the wand tip. A small hiss escaped Draco's lips and he bristled.

The room was silent, even Pansy- who was looking away.

"Now, Malfoy, this is a curious situation." Zabini leaned in, his almond eyes slits. "What would Snape think to see his prized student trying to pull a punch on one of his own? Oh…" His voice held a laugh. "That's right; you're not his prized student anymore."

"And you _are_?" Malfoy smirked- weakly.

Blaise's eyes flashed with anger. "I'm a lot closer then you are, my _dear_ friend." The wand tip traveled painfully up Draco's skin, the wooden tip leaving a trail of heat and fire up Malfoy's side.

Draco's gaze was locked with Zabini's glittering eyes.

The wand tip went up and up to Draco's chest and Malfoy shuttered involuntarily under its agonizing caress.

"You know, Malfoy…" The wand was soon shoved up under the Slytherin crest on the breast of Draco's shirt. "I could **burn** this off you."

Draco didn't breath, he didn't move.

The wand pressed one more time into Draco's flesh before it was retracted.

"But I won't. I'll let you go." Zabini's palm shot out and hit Draco in the chest, making the boy stumble a few paces back, but not fall.

Draco glared, but he knew he was beaten. He couldn't do anything with nearly half the House there. His eyes darted around and saw that a few of the boys already had their wands out. Pansy's gaze flickered over to him and she looked resignedly stoic.

Draco gave a short little huffing laugh, it would have been more audible, but his side pained.

Instead, he retreated out the Common Room to meet Hermione, unable to stand being in the same room as Zabini any longer.

A chorus of yells followed him as the stone Snake slid open. Before the door was fully closed , Malfoy had to jump out of the way as a curse hit the door frame and showered the outer hallway in an array of red sparks.

For a moment, Draco felt as if he was going to wretch right there in the damp corridor.

* * *

A/n- wow, long chapter, huh?

Don't worry, if you think all this is, like, 'story' and there's not 'plot stuff' going on, just you wait! This chapter's key! (well, except the Goyle reading part, I kinda just threw that in there)

Anyway, next chapter coming next Sunday!

Review, it makes the prospect of long chapters like this that much more plausible!

REVIEW!!


	7. Snow

A/n- Thanks to all my reviewers! You guys are awesome!!

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter- gerrrrrr….

Summary: Lots of little scenes. Kind of. By the way, info on Horcruxes are kind of mismatched to fit my story line.

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate**

* * *

"I can't believe they'd do that."

Draco let his head fall back against the Owlry's stone side, eyes closed. He felt Hermione next to him, her fingers in his hair; he could feel the disbelief in her voice. Draco grimaced.

"They're destroying me, Blaise knows it and I know it." Despite the warming charm around them, his breath appeared in a white plume when he spoke. "I think he's trying to show me that I have no one left."

Hermione smiled and tightened her grip on his arm. "You have me."

Draco gave a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes, and he knew Hermione saw this. Instead, he pulled at her cheek, closing the gap between them.

"Don't tell anyone- about the quiddich."

"It's nothing to be ashamed-" She trailed off at the look on his face and sighed. "Alright."

Draco moved his hand down to her neckline, where it flitted over her collarbone. "I just don't want the Weasel or Potter to know."

"Mmm."

Hermione wasn't listening anymore. Malfoy sat up a fraction and glowered, not really at anything. Hermione sat back next to him and entwined her hand within his.

Malfoy let out a long breath, his mind working over what he was going to send to his mother- he might as well do it tonight before she had a fit or something. Malfoy ran a hand through his hair as it hung down over his eyes.

He glanced over to Hermione, who looked a tad dejected, and felt a twinge of shame. He was ignoring her- not try to- but ignoring her all the same.

In a quick motion he bent his head and captured her lips with his own.

.o.o.o.o.

_Dearest Mother,_

_I am Owling you in regards to your ever present concern over my wellbeing. It's only the first night at Hogwarts and I already sure you are fretting over the Dark Lord's, and my father's, wishes. I implore you to give me just a little more time, mother. Wait for my answer, for I have not made up my mind as of late._

_Be patient. For your son, be patient. _

_You have my love,_

_Draco_

.o.o.o.o.

It was early November when the chill of winter first clung with claws of ice to the stone of Hogwarts. Snow was late, however, and the chill became unbearably cold without the comforting blanket of snowfall.

Draco had pulled out his fur lined cloak, the one his father had sent to him years before, only to have it nicked by Hermione only hours after it had left his trunk.

Sitting down at the Gryffindor table one Saturday morning, Draco let out a bark of a laugh as he saw Hermione and Ginny huddled under the emerald green cloak. The Slytherin crest stuck under Ginny's chin and the gray fur mingling with Hermione's hair, both looking utterly ridiculous.

"If I knew it was going to be infected by the Weasleys, I would have kept the thing for myself." Draco grinned, eyeing the girls. "I _am_ freezing, you know." He drawled. Ginny stuck up her nose.

"We're just trying to ignore the awful Slytherin smell, aren't we Hermione? It's all I can do not to wretch."

"Yes, well, you'll deal with it, won't you?" Malfoy pulled a croissant to him along with the marmalade. Hermione pulled a flyer out of her new suede school bag- a birthday present from the boy now forking a sausage onto his plate.

She handed the paper over the table. "Look, they're giving Apparition tests, have you signed up yet?" Draco looked blankly at her, his mouth full of breakfast. He narrowed his eyes as if trying to remember. "No? Well, I signed both of us up just incase." Ginny rolled her eyes but said nothing.

Malfoy swallowed a gulp of orange juice. "When are they?"

"Every Saturday this month, staring today" Draco groaned at this.

"My Saturdays…"

Hermione pursed her lips. "A _thank you_ for signing you up?"

"Thank you."

"Hello Harry!" Ginny quipped. Draco swiveled around to see Potter and the Weasel walking up, no books under their arms, but Apparition flyers in their hands. Harry waved and Draco held up his paper. Harry grinned.

"You going too, Malfoy?" Harry seated himself next to the boy as Ron went around to sit next to Ginny; one look from her brother and the red head shrugged off Draco's cloak. Hermione pulled it down low over her shoulders.

"Apparently I am, yes." Draco murmured as he handed the paper back to Hermione.

"Well good…" Harry trailed off, looking over his shoulder. Everyone was silent for a tick. Harry suddenly leaned in. "Listen, Malfoy, we wanted to talk about the Order tonight- Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and I. We thought since Dumbledore trusts you we should invite you along."

Draco looked hard at his glass as he set it back onto the table. He kept his face carefully blank.

This was a little sudden; he had to think about this. Didn't he say he was going to stay away from Potter and his rabble little gang for as long as humanly possible?

An inexplicable urge swelled within Draco's chest.

He could feel Potter next to him, feel his anticipation. He was waiting for Draco to speak.

"When?" He paused. "Where?"

"Gryffindor Common Room, about midnight- most will be in bed by then- we'll have our privacy."

Draco glanced at Ron who was staring at him. The two locked gazes.

"_You're _Common Room. You think that's best… Potter?" Draco tried hard not to smirk, not to take his eyes off the Weasel.

"Yes." Potter's voice was crisp and curt. Weasley didn't even blink.

Hermione looked slightly stricken as she leaned over the table. "No, it's too dangerous. How will he get there without being seen?"

Glancing at Hermione, Draco felt the unidentified feeling combat with another. Love. And by placing the second feeling, Draco was able to name the first.

Testosterone.

For as much as his love for Hermione ran deep, there were some things she could never replace- and being ostracized from one's own _people_ put into sharp relief what Draco was lacking.

Male bonding.

He was getting giddy from the thought of actually _talking_ to boys his age. Draco shuttered.

Harry smiled and Malfoy rounded his gaze upon him. "Not be seen? The Invisibility cloak, of course."

Malfoy's mouth dropped open.

"You have an- an _invisibility_ cloak?" His voice was incredulously excited, his eyes clear and wide. _He _didn't even have one of those, and up until the end of last year did he think he had everything- obviously not.

"Shhh." Ginny put a finger to her lips. Draco's mouth snapped shut as he felt something press into his side. Looking down he saw Potter slide the cloak out of his school bag.

The fabric, like water, was cool to the touch, and Malfoy was silent for a good long moment as he ran his hand over the invisible stitch.

"Where did you get this?" He breathed, truly in awe.

"My father."

"Your- oh." Malfoy folded the material with an extra once of care. Harry clasped him on the shoulder.

"Midnight." He murmured. "You're going to be there, right?" Draco felt an odd little sensation in the pit of his stomach as he glanced up to look at Hermione. Her gaze went from Harry's beaming smile to Draco, and she lit up like a torch, grinning ear to ear.

From that gaze did Draco tack another little name to that feeling he had.

Acceptance.

"Yes, Potter."

"Right, now, you know where the Gryffindor Tower is, knock three times and we'll swing the portrait hole open."

Malfoy nodded mutely.

It was kind of frightening, the look on the Potter boy's face. It was a beaming smile that seemed to transcend any kind of friendly, good-natured humor. It was as if he was proud of the way his little troop was forming, as if _he_, much like Dumbledore, was forming his own little Order.

Truly a Dumbledore's Army.

After all, who better to head the next group of young wizards then the Wonder Boy himself?

Draco, shifting in his seat, admitted to himself that he still didn't wholeheartedly believe what Dumbledore had said about Harry not being the focus of the Dark Lord's downfall.

Besides, if they were suppose to work together, they're couldn't be any dissension in the 'ranks of Potter'. There had to be trust built. Draco looked up at Weasley, the boy casting a blank look down the table.

Malfoy wasn't sure _that_ was _ever_ going to happen.

.o.o.o.o.

The castle felt like, quite literally, a frozen popsicle around midnight that Saturday evening as Draco steeled himself by the Slytherin fire. Yet, the snow had yet to fall.

Malfoy shook his head, stretching his arms out like a cat. His joints and muscles whined in an aching protest. He'd nearly splinched himself during apparition lessons- almost- but he had recovered just in time to make it into the metal ring.

Still, his body ached from the strain it was unaccustomed to and it wasn't as if the cold was helping him any.

His knee popped a tad painfully as he got up from his sitting position.

Stopping before the stone snake, Draco slid the invisibility cloak out from under his warm pullover. The material made his breath catch, the way the dying fire shown through the cloth.

From somewhere in the back of the Common Room, a door swung shut with a bang.

Malfoy froze momentarily before enveloping himself within the cloak. It fell upon him like gauze. Underneath the shroud, he flattened himself against the wall next to the snake and waited.

Nearly four whole minutes had ticked by without another sound, yet Draco stool still, just breathing, just listening, waiting. He couldn't afford any mistakes now.

Five minutes.

Should he move? Draco's hand twitched. He took in a shaky breath and moved his knee a fraction.

Nothing happened.

He moved again, this time away from the wall and over to the door.

Still nothing.

Tentatively, he touched the stone snake and it slid silently away, the darkness of the hall beyond oozing into the dimly lit Common Room. Draco glanced back only once before he stepped into the cold dungeon corridor beyond.

Just as the light faded, he stopped, looking back. Nothing moved. Draco turned to leave.

He got all the way up the dungeon stairs without incident- and this surprised Draco- considering he was nearly sprinting up the stairs two at a time. Only once did he have to lay on the ground, stomach flat, as Peeves swooped up and down one of the side halls.

But, as he climbed the steps near the Entrance Hall, to cross over to the main staircases, Draco stopped, his footfalls fading.

Someone else's shoes were making hollow smacking sounds on the stone behind him. They were uneven, like the person was speeding up and slowing down constantly- as if they were searching for something. Someone. Him.

Draco felt a fleeting pang of fear before he dove behind a stone statue lining the corridor walls. But as soon as he did so, Malfoy cursed himself. The stone statue was too large and bulky- he couldn't see his pursuer, only their feet if they walked by. He tried to move to get a better angle, but as soon as he leaned forward a degree, the figure rounded the corner.

His pursuer's feet whirled around on the spot as the stopped mere inches away from where Draco was hidden under the cloak. The figure paused, looking around, then sprinted off down towards the Great Hall, the opposite direction.

As the footfalls quieted, the echoes fading away, Draco let out a long sigh, his hands running through his hair. Getting to his feet once again, he stepped onto the closest moving staircase, his heart still beating wildly.

.o.o.o.o.

Creaking, the portrait hole swung open.

"Hello Potter." Draco pulled back the hood of his cloak. Although adrenalin still pumped within his veins, Malfoy threw a sneer in the boy's direction. Harry swung the picture out a little more.

"Hurry up, get in."

Draco placed both his hands on either side of the frame and hauled himself up. Harry moved back to let him pass, the Fat Lady swinging shut.

As the pair walked into the Common Room, Draco slid off the cloak and handed it back to its rightful owner. As he did so, the heat from the room hit him in the chest and it was suddenly too warm. Malfoy took off his Slytherin pullover, revealing a simple black shirt underneath.

"It's warm here." He said, mostly to himself. "And… red." Draco had never seen the inside of the Gryffindor Common Room, but it was smaller then the Slytherins'. Yet, that didn't seem to matter, for it felt more homely and certainly warmer. In front of the raging fire, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione sat, the two girls smiling at him.

For a moment, Malfoy didn't move, unsure of what to do. The utter normalcy of the scene in front of him clashed violently with the absurdity of it- he didn't know how to react.

Hermione saw the hesitation flash over his features. He looked pale, back and white against the red and gold hues around him. It was almost if his absence of Technicolor would bleed into his surroundings rather then the other way around.

She tried to look encouraging.

"Right, everyone." Harry moved past the boy to sit in one of the armchairs. Draco moved to the couch with Hermione, surprised at the softness of its cushions. "We have to discuss business."

Everyone was silent, waiting. Draco leaned back against the couch, an arm over Hermione's shoulder.

Harry cleared his throat. "I wanted to get everyone together to kind of hash out what's going to happen this year. As we know, Dumbledore and I are in the process of destroying the Horcruxes." Draco looked puzzled and Harry explained.

"The Dark Lord can be moral?" Malfoy breathed after Harry was finished.

The boy nodded."The goal is to have him mortal when I face him"

"The _Dark Lord. _You know," Ron grumbled. "I've only ever heard Death Eaters call him that."Ginny, Hermione, and Draco glared at him. Draco sighed.

Was he going to be like this all year?

"Sorry, Weasel, I've only ever grown up with one." He drawled. Ron sniffed stuffily.

Harry ignored the little spat and continued. "The Headmaster and I are also dealing in occlumency, something to help clear my mind from Voldemort."

"I can do that." Draco spat. "It's not that hard." The whole group turned to stare at him. Harry blinked. "I mean, I was taught how to do that, first year."

"Who taught you?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"Snape."

Ron's mouth fell open, but before he could dive into another 'Death Eater' accusation, Malfoy cut him off.

"My _father_ set it up, said it was good practice for when I came into _Voldemort_'s-" Ron scowled. "service." Malfoy let out a small, harsh laugh. "Said it would help against Dumbledore's people if I was ever captured. We didn't tell Snape why, my father just paid him."

Harry looked around nervously.

"No matter." Draco waved a hand. "Back to the topic at hand."

Harry nodded slowly. "When Voldemort killed my parents-" It surprised Draco how level his voice sounded. "Something happened with my scar, I can sometimes see Voldemort's thoughts, feel him if he's close."

Ginny leaned in to whisper. "His wand and Voldemort's have the same phoenix feather."

Malfoy blinked. "The same bird?" Harry nodded. "Well, Potter…" He couldn't think of any kind of witty remark. Everyone went oddly silent and Malfoy had the distinct impression that this meeting was less to inform the group and more to get _him_ up to speed.

Lost in thought, Draco remembered.

"Someone was following me here." He blurted. Hermione looked round at him. "Gave them the slip though, but still… I think they came from the Dungeons."

"Oh that narrows it down, doesn't it?" Ron spat. "Nearly _all_ the nutters come from the dungeons, don't they?" Ron shook his head in disbelief. Ginny shot him a dirty look.

"Listen, _Weasel-_"

Something made a noise at the top of the Dormitory staircase. The group whirled around, including Draco. A figure was halfway down the steps.

"Oiy, what's going on down here?" It was Katie Bell. "Hey, what's** he** doing here?" She pointed at Malfoy. Draco jumped up from the couch and rounded on the girl, his finger pointing.

"Not a _word-_" He was about to throw some dirty insult before Harry cut him off, throwing a small glare at the pale boy.

"Sorry Katie, you know, just- he wanted to see Hermione, that's all."

Katie narrowed her eyes. "Well, don't let me find him in here again." She glared at the Slytherin. "Watch yourself in here, _Malfoy._"

Draco sneered at her.

"Alright, that's enough; you should probably get back to your Common Room." Harry looked somewhat broken- as if he would have liked the conversation to continue, but with Katie still standing atop the stairs, arms folded.

"Right, Potter." Draco nodded his head in the boy's direction as he took the Invisibility cloak back. "Thanks." He whispered as he went to the Portrait Hole, Hermione on his heels.

Harry smiled.

"Don't mention it."

Ginny made a slight noise and everyone stared at her. The girl's face lit up. At the questioning stairs, she pointed.

"Look out the window!"

Everyone looked.

"It's snowing." Hermione whispered.

Draco pulled back on the invisibility cloak, watching her expression. He smiled.

* * *

A/n- sorry for the lateness, I really am!!!! Chapter 8 next Sunday! Promise! 

Anyway, what did we learn from this chapter? Three big things. Try and guess! ( hint: one is coming in the next chapter and the other two not for a while, okay that's not _really_ clue, but oh well)

Review!


	8. Dizzy

A/n- read the one at the bottom, it's kinda long.

Disclaimer: All HP stuffs goes to JK.

Summary: The countdown till chapter 13 begins NOW- the chapter where all the back-story thus far comes together and the action begins! Until then, please enjoy this chapter of drama, Katie Bell, and, of course, Ron being a soding idiot.

(By the way, props to **The Princess Wolf** for recognizing the plot points in ch 7)

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate**

* * *

Hermione had met him for breakfast, but only briefly, the enchanted sky above the pair white with false snowfall.

Draco looked up from a coffee and a copy of the Daily Profit to see Hermione standing near him, peering over his shoulder at the Quiddich scores. When he saw her, she took a breath to speak. "Harry and Ron are going to Hogsmead today. They asked me to go- I wanted to see if you'd come with us."

He mulled this over in his mind: spend a day tagging along with Wonder Boy and the Weasel or finish homework in the quiet of his dormitory. Draco took another drink, swallowed, and looked up at Hermione.

"Got some Charms work to finish, I think I'll take a day…" He trailed off and stood up from the table, touching Hermione's shoulder, the one with her bag slung over it. "You go on without me." Draco hid a smile as Hermione pursed her lips.

"If you're sure."

Draco nodded, running a hand through his hair.

"I'll see you later, then." She reached up and planted a small kiss on his lips. Draco squeezed her hand as she pulled away, waving back at him until she rounded into the Entrance Hall and out of sight.

Draco looked down at his empty plate and the thought of food made him slightly ill. Instead, he folded up his copy of the Prophet and walked along the Gryffindor table back to the dungeons.

Malfoy nearly skipped there, he was so relieved. No Slytherin stayed in the Common Room when a Hogsmead trip was readily available- it would be the perfect place to study, no one to bother him. Draco murmured the password to the Stone Snake, but it did not move. Ice seemed to flood his veins.

They changed the password.

Malfoy grimaced, his fist coming into contact with the wall. He ran his smarting hand through his hair and was about to stalk off to the Library when the Snake jumped to life. Draco's hand went to his wand.

Goyle poked his head out.

"Oiy, what you do'en?"

Draco blinked at him and pointed at the snake.

"The bloody password…!"

Goyle's face pinched and Malfoy couldn't tell if it was a smile or a grimace. "Passwords 'ferret'." Now he was smiling, more out of the look on Draco's face then because of the password. "No one told you?"

Malfoy grit his teeth and didn't say a word. Goyle stepped aside, issuing a small grunt.

"Ur not gonna stand there gawking, ar you?"

Draco passed into the Common Room, its silence pressing comfortably down on the pair.

"You're not going to Hogsmead?" Malfoy managed to say as he sat down hard on the couch, pulling his school bag onto the table. Goyle shook his head and sat down in an armchair opposite.

"Schoolwork." He muttered, pulling out the reading glasses Draco saw on him months ago, earlier on in the year. At Draco's look, he shrugged. "Not many people know I wear glasses."

"I never did." Malfoy blinked at him, his hair falling down into his eyes.

Goyle grunted. "Never asked; to busy making trouble you were-"

Draco leaned in and sneered. "Speaking of, how hard under Zabini's thumb are you exactly?" The boy across from him looked shocked, the book he picked up half open.

"Wut?" He said stupidly. Draco felt heat rise in his face.

The both were silent for a tick.

"Well…" Draco started awkwardly, looking down at his parchment. "I was assuming…"

"Blaise hasn't talked to anyone since he nearly hexed you. Even Pansy, she's getting quite annoyed."

Draco smirked.

"Too busy making my life miserable, I suppose." He drawled. Goyle raised an eyebrow.

"He's been acting strange; I don't think it's on account of _you. _The world doesn't revolve around Draco Malfoy, you know."

Draco grinned. "You're brave…" Goyle looked away and pulled a enchanted quill towards him, one that highlighted said textbook in his hands. "Why _are_ you speaking to me anyway? Crabb certainly hasnt." At this, Goyle let out a harsh laugh.

"Vincent may be smarter then I am when it comes to learning stuff, but he's stupid when it comes to loyalties." Goyle glanced into the dead fire. "Not saying I'm loyal to you or Blaise- I just know when to stay out of the way."

"Loyalties… what about the Dark Lord? Where do your loyalties lie when it comes to him?"

Goyle winced only slightly.

"The Dark Lord? Heh… my father hasn't told me anything lately. It's like the Deatheaters have gone underground or something. My dear 'ol dad _did_ let slip they had a plan, a good plan, but I haven't been told much else."

Draco leaned in a bit further, his homework slipping off his knees to the floor, but he didn't notice.

"And the Dark Mark? Do you have it?"

Goyle shook his head, but his eyes became bright. "Crabb doesn't either." He locked eyes with Malfoy. "But Zabini does."

Draco let out a breath and sat back against the couch, his head tilted towards the ceiling. Something was nagging at the back of his brain as he mulled over the information that Blaise had officially crossed over.

Narcissa.

Why his mother popped into his head, he had no idea, but Draco was suddenly very disturbed that a few months had gone by and he had not received any word from his mother- good or otherwise.

Goyle looked over his glasses.

"Your homework."

Draco stared at him for a few seconds. "Oh… oh! Right… bugger…" He leaned down to gather his things.

.o.o.o.o.

Not an hour had gone by when Draco had to leave the dungeons for a bout of fresh air. He gathered his things and left them with Goyle, asking him to just keep an eye on them.

"Look Malfoy, don't say we talked. Don't want anyone to know."

Malfoy agreed and left, not before Goyle had so courteously reminded him of the password.

"Cheeky little git." Draco murmured with a smile as the Stone Snake slid back into place, the coolness of the hall hitting him.

A walk round the lake would undoubtedly clear his thoughts.

As Draco walked up the steps to the Entrance Hall, someone rushed him from behind, nearly making him nearly fall over.

"Draco!"

He turned round to see Hermione clutching his robe, her eyes wide with fear.

"What?" Draco felt his heart stop. "Are you alright?"

"Where were you?" She said hurriedly. Draco saw the students coming back from Hogsmead begin to murmur and crowd around. Out in the distance Malfoy saw Potter, Ginny, and the Weasel running up to meet them.

"I was in the Slytherin Common Room. What's going on?"

Ron looked furious and before Hermione could open her mouth, he spoke up.

"You know very well what's going on, _Malfoy_. Katie Bell was attacked in Hogsmead."

Draco looked blankly at him, his mouth opening once, and then he closed it. Ron's ears were pink and he had pushed Hermione aside to stand level with Draco. Malfoy stiffened as he realized the Weasel stood even a bit taller.

Draco whispered softly. "How was she attacked?"

Ron sneered at him. "You know how, Malfoy, Slytherin scum! She had a package; something in that package cursed her. Any idea what it was, Malfoy?" Before Draco could open his mouth, Ron continued. "A necklace, a bright green, cursed necklace. Do you know where that necklace came from, Malfoy?" Draco glared at the Weasel. "Borgain and Burkes- Harry saw it there- and we all know what kind of wizards hang \round _that_ shop, don't we Malfoy?"

Draco smirked at the boy's idiocy and Ron grabbed at his cloak. Hermione let out a tiny squeak as Harry put a hand on her shoulder.

"Ron, come on."

"No Harry." He snarled over his shoulder. "No, he attacked her!"

Draco knew the answer to his next question before he even opened his mouth.

"Why would I attack Bell?" The grip on his robe tightened.

"Saw you in the Common Room, didn't she? Wanted to silence her, didn't you?"

The group of students that were milling around started whispering, murmuring. Draco glanced at Hermione, his face carefully blank.

"Now Ronald-" Hermione reasoned, a hand on the ginger-haired boy. "If he says he was in the Slytherin Common Room, then he was."

Ron grimaced. "Oh yeah? You got proof? Was anyone there to see you?"

Malfoy winced. "No… no one."

Harry yanked away one of Ron's arms. "Leave it, mate. He didn't have anything to do with it."

Ron looked stricken, as if this was the ultimate in betrayal. He rounded on Ginny who glanced away. Ron dropped Malfoy's robes like they had burned him. Draco reached up and straitened his cloak with a quick snap.

His pride was getting the better of him; he sneered and curled his lip.

"Better get your facts strait before you start accusing innocents, won't you, Weasel?"

Ron backed up, looking around. Without another word, he whirled around and left, stalking up the steps to the Gryffindor Common Room.

.o.o.o.o.

A few hours later, Malfoy was back to his schoolwork. Hermione had tried to sit him down over lunch, but Draco's heart wasn't in it.

He pushed away his plate and looked hard at the table. What the Weasel had said troubled him.

It was too perfect, wasn't it?

Malfoy was glad Hermione had let him be. She wasn't like Pansy, she didn't simper over him, she gave him space. Kissing him gently on the forehead, a hand running through his hair, Hermione got up and left him to his work.

Before night settled onto Hogwarts, Draco had tried to turn in early. As the Stone Snake slid back into place, Malfoy saw Zabini get up from his seat in front of the fire.

"Oiy." The boy called to him.

Draco tried to ignore whatever was about to come out of the other's mouth.

"Oiy, Malfoy. Heard you cursed Katie Bell this afternoon."

Pausing, Malfoy looked over his shoulder.

"Is it true?" Blaise was leaning over the edge of the armchair he was perched upon. His eyes were wide, mouth open, as if hanging on Draco's answer.

"No, I never touched her." Malfoy looked clam and reserve, stoic, sure of himself.

Zabini cracked a grin.

"You _sure_?"

Draco bristled and Zabini lapsed into laughter, clutching the sides of the leather, his head bowed. Malfoy watched, half torn between interest and disgust at the boy. He was sure he saw tears of hilarity in Blaise's eyes. Malfoy felt his hands curl into fists.

Ignoring the display, Draco stalked off down to his room, the boy's echoes of laughter following him into the dark. Malfoy saw Goyle reading by wandlight, glasses askew.

Draco smiled good-naturedly, albeit nearly a sneer, and set down his book bag, grabbing his wand out in order to get ready for bed. He had lost count of the nights where he slept with his wand under his pillow, and again did he stow it there as he pulled the heavy comforter up round his chin.

Within seconds he was asleep.

At nearly three in the morning however, Draco was jolted awake.

For a moment, Malfoy chastised himself; he had not reached instinctively for his wand as he should have. Yet all that concern dripped away as he sat up and felt something flutter into his lap.

"Lumos." He whispered quietly, and a small pinprick of light appeared at the tip of his wand.

Draco's hands tingled.

On his lap was a neat folded piece of parchment, a letter, and although it held the crest of his father as his first letter did, this one was _not_ on a tattered piece of parchment, but on the neat stationary from the Malfoy manor.

Opening the letter, his father's clear print shone out purple against the white paper.

_Draco,_

_As you have probably heard, I am no longer under the care of those buffoons at Azkaban, I am at home, being fed properly and being taken care of._

_I would not normally Owl you, that undoubtedly being your mother's job, but I wanted to contact you concerning two things. _

_First, I am proud that you have conceded to accept the Dark Lord's request- your mother having given us your Owl as soon as she received the news. We are all: the Dark Lord, your mother, and I- relieved that you are taking advantage of this opportunity to reinstall yourself within the Dark Lord's graces. _

_However, I must say that your first attempt this afternoon has come off rather badly. You were not able to complete your mission and the package did not reach the target. _

_We are disappointed Draco, however we know you will try harder next time._

_Your father,_

_Lucius Malfoy._

Draco stared at the paper, not breathing.

He accepted the Dark Lord's…

He attempted… that must be Katie Bell. But he was… how could he have… he was in the Common Room the whole time, wasn't he?

And what target?

The letter clutched tightly in his hand, Draco got out of bed as quickly as he could, his wand pointed high over his head. He moved to Goyle's bed and crouched down.

"Goyle!" He hissed, shaking the boy.

A groan.

"Goyle! Gregory!"

"Wh- what's going on? Malfoy?" The boy sat up sharply.

"Shh." Draco put a finger to his lips. "Goyle, was I in the Common Room the whole time this morning?" The boy looked confused for a moment.

"Wut?"

Malfoy's heart was beating so fast within his ears; he could feel his blood pumping through his veins.

"Was. I. In. The. Common. Room. The. Whole. Time. This. Morning?" His teeth grin painfully.

"Wu'll, yeah, mate, why?"

Draco let go of the boy's shirt and slumped back against the wall, breathing heavily.

"Wuts wrong, Malfoy?"

"Nothing…I-" Draco trailed off. "Nothing." He moved back to his bed in a daze and locked the letter in his bedside table.

He'd leave it there, not say anything. Once he got another letter, he'd tell Potter. Once he got a little more information, he'd tell Potter.

"Nox."

Draco didn't fall back asleep that night.

.o.o.o.o.

The following morning, around a tensely silent breakfast where neither Ron nor Draco were eating much, where Harry was sending odd glances at the pair over toast, and where Hermione kept her goblet up to her lips to stay anything she would accidentally blurt out, Ginny had had enough.

"That it!" The redhead yelled, slamming the palms of her hands into the table. The Gryffindors looked at her with wide eyes. "I'm tired of all this! Look, Katie Bell nearly died yesterday, didn't she? Up in St. Mugo's she is."

Now she was speaking to the entire table.

"You-know-who's back, alright? And here we all are, scared, sitting in silence, ready to jinx or fight each other. It's enough I tell you!"

Her eyes went wide.

"We're still children, still students! Bloody hell act like it!" Her chest rose up and down rapidly as she looked wildly down the table.

"That's it… I'm throwing a Christmas Party! And everyone's going to have a bloody good time!"

Down the table, Neville spit out his drink.

* * *

A/n- okay, long one: 

First, everyone knows this takes place during the HBP, right? Last story was during OoTP, just so no one is confused.

Second, with the 7th book coming out, HP is going to end before this story does, so no matter _how_ it ends, I wrote the outline to this one first. This means that if elements in the DH are somehow similar to elements in this fic, its just coincidence- I will not change this one to 'fit' with DH.

Thirdly, I will still be updating next Sunday- YAY FOR DEATHLY HALLOWS!

Fourthly (haha)- Goyle was telling the truth, Draco was in the Common Room the whole time.

Anyway, like I said, countdown to chapter 13 begins! (There are 19 chapters in all- I know it's less then Jackknifed, but the chapters here are longer)

By the way, I'm sick (in summer, can you believe it???) , so reviewing will make me feel LOADS better!!

(you should really review if u fav/alert this cuz i get e-mails and know whos fav'en and not reviewen.. muhahahahaaaa** coughcoughsniff**.. i hate being sick)

Review!!


	9. Dazzle

A/n- Deathly Hallows was AMAZING! See end A/n for more of my opinion!

Disclaimer: I own… my creativeness?

Summary: The lead up, the big night, and the cozy morning. Calm before storms. Stuff about Horcruxs have been altered to fit this story; I was going to have Horcruxes in this anyway and was going to have 7 random things but I'm using the ones from DH, even if I'm not going by DH it seemed smarter to use those Horcruxes. LONG CHAPTER!

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate**

* * *

It was with a staggering fervor that Ginny took on the roll, not unlike her mother, to be the Gryffindor's official 'den mother'. It was a natural choice, if anyone had to choose between her and any other number of underclassmen; and she shouldered the responsibility with silent ferocity.

A week before Christmas and Ginny sat down next to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco one morning, and was practically beaming. Harry looked at her strangely.

No one had really heard of her plans for the Holidays, only her and other people- two other girls. But that morning, she seemed close to spilling her plans.

Before any of them could open their mouths, the flurry of the morning post distracted their attentions. Owls; not the normal number of owls either. It was like an army of owls had swooped through the windows, nearly all heading to the Gryffindor table. As letters dropped around her, Ginny picked up a piece of toast, got up again, and left, still smiling.

Draco raised and eyebrow and picked up a letter that had dropped next to him. _Draco Malfoy_ it read in loopy red-gold writing. He peered over at Hermione's whose envelope was the same; _Hermione J. Granger_.

"She's mental." Ron muttered as he opened his own note. "All this for a party!" Harry unfolded his in the same motion everyone else did. Draco skimmed the words silently as Harry narrated.

"_You are hereby invited to the Gryffindor Christmas eve Party to be held from six to eleven in the Gryffindor Common Room. Hors d'oeuvres_ _and drink will be provided. No formal dress is required, but the hostesses would like to remind all who attend to try and not look like trolls. Hope to see you there, your lovely party planner, Ginny M. Weasley."_

Ron rolled his eyes but Harry only laughed, shaking his head.

"Is she serious?" Draco questioned aloud and Ron nodded at his plate. Harry stifled a rather loud yawn and Hermione glared at him.

"Why so tired Harry?" But the three boys in the group already knew the answer to that question, as Hermione did.

"Don't know what you're talking bout." He stifled; Hermione looked a little less then impressed.

Draco forked a pancake, unwilling to place himself in the middle of another one of the two's rows. Ron ignored them all completely as Hermione started balking. Draco sighed.

It was secret knowledge among the four that Harry had been flitting out at night with the Headmaster to look for the Horcruxes. That, compounded with the amount his scar had been aching, Harry had been looking like the walking dead then for nearly a week.

Hermione was insistent that she, Ron, and Draco help with the search. But Harry was adamant about them staying put and when he did need them, he'd ask- and he did.

Malfoy recalled nearly three week's worth of sneaking up to either the Tower or the Room of Requirement in order to ponder over Horcruxs. Every time he got in the door, he was quizzed to see if he was the real Draco and questioned if anyone had been following him.

Draco would relate some bit of personal story- usually about Hermione just to see Ron's face- and then answer no, no one had followed him, no one had said anything since Blaise's little laugh riot.

Sitting under lit lamps, the group had composed a list of five known Horcruxes:

Riddle's Diary; destroyed by Harry in their second year.

Marvolo Gaunt's ring; cracked by Dumbledore with the use of Gryffindor's sword.

Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem; destroyed by Harry with the sword. After Harry he had realized that there would most likely be a Horcrux for every House, Hermione, researching Rowena Ravenclaw's history, produced a picture of her wearing the Diadem. It had been familiar to Ron, relating that he had walked into the Room of Requirement while he tried to hide his brother's joke things when Filtch had nearly caught him. Ron had hid Fred and George's things on a dresser under which the Diadem had been resting.

Helga Hufflepuff's Cup; acquired then destroyed by Dumbeldore after he learned from an unknown source that Bellatrixkept the object at Gringotts. The Headmaster had bewitched a Goblin to get it for him.

There were three left, two if Harry and the old man played their cards right- Dumbledore knew about one more- a locket that belonged to Salazar Slytherin. It was this that Harry and the Headmaster pondered over for the last few days, up till nearly one in the morning trying to figure where it would be hidden.

Draco was forced from his musings when Hermione stop mid-sentence, Potter's hand snapping up to his brow. Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"Harry?" Hermione ventured. She looked stricken. "I didn't mean to- sorry Harry." The boy's eyes were a tad glazed, unfocused. After nearly ten seconds, he snapped back and stared at her.

"Sorry?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances but Draco leaned in.

"You saw him, did you, Potter?" The greed in his voice was unchecked, gaining a nasty look from Hermione. Draco ignored it as Harry nodded.

"He's- not happy, but then, gleeful? It's… something _unpleasant_ has happened or something and he's _happy_ about it?" There was a pause. "Murderously happy. He was standing…"

Draco tuned out the rest, a chill rippling up his spine. He couldn't stand the way Potter talked so casually over the Dark Lord, as if he had nothing to be frightened of, as if he was just another ordinary wizard. Bedsides, the fact the boy's scar acted like a Death Eater Ariel was strange in itself.

Malfoy glanced at Hermione; her mouth was hanging open slightly. He felt guilt drench him. Ever since this Horcrux business, they hadn't had hardly enough time alone together. Draco stroked her bare arm under the table, his hand reaching into the sleeve of her cloak.

Ron sighed across the table.

"It'll be weird, you know, not going home for Christmas." He was looking down at his plate. A breath of relief flooded Draco. That's right; he wouldn't have to go home. Brilliant!

In a crawlspace at the back of Draco's mind a little voice reminded him about the letter from his father, but he pushed away the thought, unwilling to think of such things when the Holidays were so close.

"I'll miss mum's pudding." He heard the Weasel simper. Laughing lightly, Harry shook his head.

.o.o.o.o.

It was five-thirty Christmas Eve and the last of the students heading home for the Holidays were packing their trunks and making their way down to the Great Hall.

Not all students, but most.

Standing up from his bed, Draco felt his head rush uncomfortably. He put his arm out and caught his bedpost as a lurching feeling, not unlike apparition, struck up in his stomach- nauseating.

A small grunt from the doorway focused his attention and he looked up to the dorm doorway. He saw a rather tall, bulky mass silhouetted against the firelight in the Common Room.

"Goyle."

The boy slouched in the doorframe. "You're not going home?" It was a stupid question. Draco let his hand fall back beside him and nodded, his wand twirling in his other hand. Goyle stared at the Hawthorn shaft, not really frightened, but he didn't move a muscle; Draco pulled the wand to his scalp and started magically combing through his hair. He could hear the other boy begin to breathe again.

"Knew you weren't." Was the boy's sullen reply. Draco rolled his eyes and nodded again. "Go'en to tell you to give my regards to your father." Draco looked at him oddly. "But, seeing as I'm going to see him myself thought better of it." Malfoy whirled around.

"My father?" He said in a rush. Goyle nodded and the pale boy glared suspiciously. "Why are you telling me this?"

The Goyle looked extremely uncomfortable. "I- er… You see, we're go'en to the Manor, eh?" Draco's eyes widened. "All 'em Deatheaters are going to the Malfoy Manor; You-Know-Who's keep'en everyone there as a kind of base."

Malfoy blinked. "My home?" Goyle nodded and a kind of rage seethed its way into Draco's veins. "I don't believe it." But he did, he knew he did and Goyle knew he did. It was just the kind of thing his father would do, lay down in front of the Dark Lord and let him walk right over into the Manor.

Didn't his father know Dark Lord didn't love him? Not as much as he did Lestrange anyway… well, that was a different kind of love and Draco couldn't really call that love either. Whatever his father did was not putting him into the Lord's good graces- it was merely a trick to use his father.

Wonder what his mother thought of it.

Ah, idea.

"Goyle." Draco motioned him over as he sat back on his bed; the other boy kind of lurched forward. Draco reached down and tapped his bedside drawer with his wand, the lock clicking open. He handed his father's letter to Goyle as the boy stood awkwardly next to the bed.

"Read it."

Draco watched the boy's face change from something akin to embarrassment to utter confusion.

"But you were-"

"I know, with you when Katie got cursed."

"But then, who-"

Shaking his head, Malfoy took the letter back. "I don't know, but I know how I can try and find out…" He looked up at Goyle who instinctively shook his head.

"I came to tell ya that I wouldn't snoop through your sock drawer Malfoy, not cuz I wanted to help you figure out what the Dark Lord's plannen."

Malfoy closed the drawer with a particularly loud snap, glowering. "Fine. Forget I mentioned it."

Both the boys fell silent, Draco glowering at the floor and Goyle unsure if he was suppose to leave or not.

"Erm, I suppose, I could keep an ear open…" He said finally. Beneath a mask of calm cool collectiveness, Draco smiled mirthlessly; he always got what he wanted. Manipulation.

"Thanks Goyle." He nodded as he stood up, slowly, and clasped a hand on the boy's shoulder. His fellow Slytherin smiled nervously and then kind of jumped in surprise.

"I'm going to miss the train."

Malfoy stared at him.

"I'll see you later." Goyle said, rushing out of the dorm, his trunk outside in the Common Room. Draco grinned and buttoned up the rest of his shirt; not wanting to wear wizard's robes for the party.

Giving himself a good look in the dusty Slytherin mirror a few minutes lator, Malfoy walked out only to stop short.

Blaise Zabini was carrying his trunk to the Common Room door. They both stopped and stared. Balise was the first to speak.

"Been having a good chat with Gregory, were we?"

Draco glared. "You missed the train." He said flatly, coolly. "Left nearly ten minutes ago." Zabini smiled.

"Oh, I'm not going on the train, I'm meeting mother in Hogsmead."

There was a joke imbedded there about which new husband his mother would be bringing along, but Draco said nothing. To provoke Blaise now would be foolish.

"Trip to Hogsmead- should be fun Zabini."

The other boy sneered, casting away Malfoy's kindness. "Oh, we're just having dinner there before we move along to the Malfoy Manor." Draco tried to look surprised but his lack of anger was caught and Blaise narrowed his eyes, his grin growing.

The Stone Snake slid to the side and just as Blaise walked out, he looked back.

"I think I've persuaded your father to let me have your old room."

Malfoy couldn't see his face as Zabini continued.

"I'll be sure to read your Diary, Draco…"

His voice was thankfully silenced by the Snake which locked back into place. Malfoy let out a breath and unclenched his fists; half-moon divits from his nails created shadows along his palms.

Fifteen minutes later and he stood in front of the Gryffindor portrait hole, rather loud noises issuing from behind the frame.

His fist reached out to rap on the wood but he had to jump back in surprise as the picture swung open and someone- no, two people- scurried out of it. He could hear Ginny's voice from beyond.

"Another tray- make it two! And if you can bribe some Firewhisky out of 'em I'll give you a tip!"

The two First Years sprinted down the staircase towards the Kitchens; Draco having thrust a palm between frame and wall to keep the portrait open. He watched them, bemused, as he hauled himself into the Common Room.

The noise practically threw him off his feet.

Draco's mouth promptly fell open.

Looking up, he saw it was snowing- right there in the room- large flakes that, when having almost reached the heads of students, disappeared. The usual Gryffindor tables, chairs, and rugs had been pushed back against the wall and someone very talented- he had an inkling who- had preformed a charm that expanded the tower and configured the old furniture.

Now, a long continuous red couch lined the walls on either side of the portrait hole, snaking their way around the room like overlarge parentheses that were separated by the Fat Lady and the staircase to the dorm.

There was a dance floor in the middle of the room, a circular _dance_ floor. Draco couldn't fathom this as he weaved between crowds of not only Gryffindors but a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. He, however, was the only Slytherin.

Finally, between the dance floor and the overlarge couches sat little iron tables with little iron chairs on which students sat and conversed. Underfoot House-elves laden with trays of food and drink scurried and green and red pixies busied through the air and the Gryffindor fire raged under a handsomely decorated hearth. An immense magically modified phonograph played some hit song.

As Malfoy stared up at the walkway between the two dorms- marveling at the read holly and mistletoe that hung there- someone shrieked his name in delight and hugged him round the middle.

"Ginny." He said, startled. "How are you holding up?"

The girl laughed and as she stepped away, Malfoy eyed her, smiling. She was wearing what seemed a hybrid between a dress and wizard's robes and shinning ruby red. At his question, she huffed a frown.

"I sent some of my helpers back down to the kitchens and the pixies have tried to escape- twice- but other then that? Thanks for coming by the way! Ron didn't even say a word against it. Perhaps he's coming around!"

"Doubtful." Draco snorted. Ginny shrugged and pulled him along, shoving something crystal and filled with liquid into his hands. Draco cringed when they passed the megaphone; over the heads of the crowd he could see that most of the available seating was taken, some having resorted to sit on the steps up to the dorms.

"Draco's here!" Ginny quipped as she led him over to Ron who sat on the long red couch in the corner. He looked better then he had at the Yule Ball- no frills.

"Hello Weasel!" Malfoy managed over the noise. Ron looked confused, obviously he couldn't hear him, but nodded anyway at the somewhat loaded greeting.

Ron motioned them to sit down but only Draco did, pulling up a miraculously empty chair.

"Can't sit; I can only stay for a moment Ron." Ginny said as she leaned on the back of Draco's chair. Ron squinted at her.

"Ginny, this is insane; I don't even know half these people! How are you possibly getting the money for this?"

Draco noticed with quiet pleasure the twinkling Christmas lights floating above their heads.

"Didn't they tell you?" The girl looked genuinely concerned.

Ron looked startled.

"I've become an On-location Consultant for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes!"

A spluttering distracted Draco from his musings as he saw the Weasel spit out what looked lke Butterbear down his front.

"You _what_?!"

Ginny looked completely innocent; a reluctant grin spreading across Malfoy's face.

"Anyway, Ron, I've got to go see if those first years are back." The red head pushed away from the chair.

"Ginny!"

"See you Draco, hope you have a good time!"

"Ginny!!"

But the girl was deaf to her brother's calls as she dissapeared into the crowd. Ron looked utterly defeated and slumped back against the wall. Malfoy grinned and Ron returned it, weakly.

"So, where's-"

"Hey guys." Ron and Draco swivvled around to see Harry slump down next to them. He looked tired as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Any luck?" Ron murmured. Harry shook his head.

Yet another wasted evening with Dumbledore. Draco leaned back in his chair and tried to ignore the looks he was receiving from the other students. He glowered; it seemed to help, less people stared.

Malfoy pulled at his shirt collar and unbuttoned the top loop. Nerviouly, he sipped at the drink Ginny had given him and gave a small start. Unless he was imagining it, this was real Whisky- not Firewhisky. Draco let out a small chuckle, half listening to the Weird Sisiter's music playing and half waiting anxiously for Hermione whom he haddnt seen but assumed to be getting ready.

How much time did women _really_ need?

"Draco!"

Malfoy looked up and met Harry and Ron's eyes; they were looking over his shoulder. Draco turned and a smiled.

Hermione squeezed through a pair of tipsy seventh years to them. Malfoy tried to act casual but his hands were really rather warm at the sight of her; her hair was pulled back with a thin hairband, a black velvet skirt hung just below her knees, and a shirt he'd never quite seen the likes of before- it was black but not black at the same time for little bursts of green and red and gold continiously erupted upon its surface.

Malfoy stood up and took Hermione's hand, kissing her gently upon the lips.

"You smell like alchohol." She whispered against him. Draco grinned.

"Not my fault!" He said defensivly as he enchanted a chair for her. "The mini-Weasle was the one!"

Ron gave a huffing little noise. "Hermione, did she ever tell you she was in **cahoots **with Fred and George!?" Hermione blinked at him.

"You mean Weasley' Wizard Wheezes?"

Ron threw up his hands and looked dumbfounded.

Harry laughed.

.o.o.o.o.

Ten thirty, it was ten thirty, and Draco didn't think he could stand on his own two feet ever again. Four hours and it was perhaps the fifth time he had sat down to take a break as the music pumped around him.

Hermione, having kicked off her shoes like the rest of the girls in the first fourty-five minutes- why they even wore shoes if they were going to take them off anyway was besides Draco- had made a quick movement towards the girl's bathroom and Draco took the oportunity to sit.

Craning his neck, he could see Harry and Ginny dancing a little closer then Wonder Boy's best friend would have liked.

Malfoy flexed his fingers and the horrors of the Dark Lord, the war, Horcrxes, even his Father seemed to be so far away.

That was Ginny's plan, wanst it?

He licked his lips.

He could still feel Hermione's weight against his hip, could still feel her breath against his shoulder.

Getting up, Draco skirted the mass of people to the steps to the dorms, follwing in Hermione's wake. Carefully he crept up the staircase, hiding partly in the shadows, waiting.

He heard the dormitory door creak back open, saw Hermione fan out the wrinkles in her skirt. As she walked closer, Malfoy jumped out of the dark and grabbed her around the waist.

"Wh-" But her lips were silenced for a moment. Draco felt her quick and rapid heartbeat slow against his chest.

"Didn't mean to scare you." He whispred, his voice a slight hoarse from yelling over the music. Hermione pursed her lips, eyes wide and shining.

"Yes you did, don't _lie_." She smiled.

"Perhaps we could just stay here?" Draco leaned agains one of the stone walls, the staircase concieling them as long as they didn't walk towards the dorm doors who's hallway opened over the party.

Hermione rolled her eyes but sat gingerly upon the ground across from him; Malfoy slid down the wall.

"My feet are killing me."

Worlessly, Draco placed her heels in his lap. She was wearing stocking, how quaintly beautiful.

"I love you, Hermione." He said quietly, suddenly. Draco looked up to see Hermione's soft brown eyes watching him, an expression of frailty on her face. "I'll protect you from The Dark- from You Know- from Voldemort." He watched her wince- he winced too- but there gaze still held firm.

"I love you too, Draco." She scooted over to sit next to him, her legs partly hanging in his lap, her side against his chest. Malfoy felt his heart quicken.

"I- uh-" He wanted to say something sweet and endearing. His mind wouldn't admit it, but he wanted to be the hero, like Potter, just for once, even if the heroism was over something personal and not… well… evil.

Sweet and endearing.

But nothing would come- perhaps he wasn't the sweet and endearing type. But Hermione knew, she knew his love and devotion. She smiled up at him.

"Would you like to go back to the party?"

Draco shook his head softly and they sat, until eleven, wrapped up in eachother.

But the half hour ticked by with an alarmingly rapid clip. It seemed like only the second kiss and Ginny was winding down the music, the radio dying. Her magically magnified voice echoing round the Common Room.

"Thank you! Thank you all for coming! As head of this little party, I'd like to thank Luna and Lavender for helping me get this little thing together, to Hermione who helped with the- well, lets see- _all_ the enchantments! "

Draco and Hermione slowly desended the steps back into the brightly lit group. Everyone smiled at bushy haired girl, who blushed.

"I hope this has diverted, even if for one night, your attention away from any troubling matters- I hope you have a good time." She paused. "Now, everyone who is still going home for Christmas, McGonigal has arranged a window of a half an hour of Floo Networking in her office. She would like me to remind eveyone who is leaving to gather their things and meet her outside her office in approximatly ten minutes. Thank you all again!"

Malfoy leaned against the wall as numerious students squeezed past to gather their things; other studnets from other houses filed out the portrait hole, Ginny at the door hugging friends and waving to those who exited.

"I should get going." Malfoy murmured as he helped transfigure the chairs back to their original shape. Ron and Harry had helped the House-elves carry the extra trays back to the Kitchens. Ginny was bottling the pixies, having been relieved of her duty as hostess when everyone was finally gone.

"Are any one the Slytherins even staying this year?"

Draco shrugged, sent slightly off balance as the room squeezed back to its small, round shape. "Might be nice to have it to myself for a change, but I think a few seventh years are staying." Hermione lowered her wand and looked at him.

They hadn't discussed Draco return to the Manor for Christmas- or the lack of him doing so.

"I'm sorry you won't be able to see your parents."

Malfoy grinned good-naturedly, his eyes squinting with a smile- something not usually seen. "I'm sure they're getting along alright without me." He knew Hermione could hear the edge in his voice.

His father could rot for all he cared; Draco was worried about his mother. His mother with the Dark Lord, Blaise, Deatheaters- oh he bet she nearly had a heart attack when it was announced they'd all be staying there. She probably helped the help clean or something idiotic like that.

A little laugh bubbled up from Draco's tired lungs.

He felt Hermione's hand on his arm; turning him around to look at her. Silently, she threaded her other hand through his hair.

"You are very brave." She murmured. Draco grinned, trying on his best dashing smile. Hermione stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

After a minute or so a voice floated down from the dorms.

"You know, you might want to lay off it a little, if my brother sees you he'll go mental."

Hermione's look was sour and Draco chuckled. "Ginny, you should know I don't give a damn what the Weasel thinks."

A shrill laugh echoed around the room. "He says the same thing! Only _he_ uses the term 'ferret'."

"I really should be going." Draco said again, smiling as the portrait hole opened and the two boys clamored in. Hermione nodded and Malfoy bid goodnight to the four, stepping down from the Fat Lady, swinging it shut.

Silence descended around the room and Ginny poked her head out from around the staircase.

"Ron…" Hermione said in a sweet voice.

"No." He said flatly, as if expecting some request unbefitting to him.

"_Ro-on._" She said even more sweetly, grinning at him.

"**What**?"

Ginny leaned out and caught Harry's eye as he walked over. She gave him a clueless look and the boy shook his head, rolling his eyes, smiling. Watching Harry, she didn't hear Hermione's question, only Ron's abrupt answer.

"No."

"Oh, Ron!"

"No. No. NO. I will _not_ have my morning _ruined_ by having to stare at... **that**! No! No! NO! I simply won't have it!"

.o.o.o.o.

"Hello Potter."

Harry had pushed back the Fat Lady to see Malfoy standing in the corridor, morning sunlight streaming down through the tall Hogwarts windows. It was nearly seven- thirty. Harry yawned and blinked tiredly at him, moving aside to let him enter, a package under the Slytherin's arm.

"Assuming…" Draco held up a little note. "That the 'xoxoxo's weren't from _you_, where is Hermione?" He had been surprised- pleasantly at least- to find the little letter on his bedside table that morning.

The picture swung shut and Harry followed him into the warm Common Room, a Christmas tree erected near the fire, sparkling. "You're lucky; Ron was adamant about you not 'ruining his Christmas morning.'."

Malfoy laughed something between a scoff and a strange high-pitched giggle. "Ah, the Weasel… Ferret and the Weasel- isn't there a children's story about that or something? A song?" Harry looked bewildered. "Never mind." Draco placed his single package under the tree and was slightly taken aback when he noticed more then one gift already under there donned his name.

"Ah-" He started, but was cut off when Harry bid good morning to Ron and Ginny- already arguing- as they walked down the stairs, Hermione following with a tray of hot chocolate from the House-elves.

"Good morning!" Hermione beamed at them as they sat around the fire.

"Are you four the only ones staying in Gryffindor?" Draco asked astonished, taking a cup and kissing Hermione good morning. The goblet felt as if it seared his hands in a strangely pleasant way.

Ginny nodded then stopped and shook her head. "Well, a couple others are staying but they already left to meet friends from other Houses." Malfoy nodded as Ginny seated herself next to the tree- picking up a package and handing them out one by one.

Harry smiled at the red head, an action unnoticed by Ron but certainly noticed by Draco. He watched them, bemused.

Harry was unwrapping his gift from Ginny as Draco was given a package wrapped in butcher paper and baring his name. He looked at Hermione who was sitting next to him in the overlarge armchair as if asking if it was from her. She shook her head.

Ginny was laughing over a pair of socks she got from Luna- ones that had what looked like dangling radishes on the heels. Ron glanced at Malfoy and groaned. Draco blinked.

"Oh god, Mum sent Malfoy a package."

"This is from _your_ mother, Wesley?" Malfoy ripped at the packaging whilst Harry grinned at Ginny, a gold wand holder from the girl in his lap.

Sitting in Draco's hands was something black and soft. He held it up and a knit sweater unfolded in his arms. In the center of the black knit was a large and ornate silver D.

Ron groaned and Malfoy cracked a smile.

"This mean I'm in the _official _club?" He laughed, sliding the warm cloth over his head. "Ah, your mother is amazing." He murmured, "This fits." Ginny snickered as she passed out more gifts.

With a sinking feeling he saw four more neatly wrapped packages with his name on it and remembered he had only brought one, for Hermione, and nothing else.

Malfoy bit his lip as Ginny handed him her present- it was a small snow globe with a miniature broom whizzing around inside, snow falling onto a fake quiddich pitch. Another package: Dumbledore had given Draco a whole bag of Acid Pops.

As he turned the candy over in his hand, Hermione squealed as she hugged Ginny, a shinny new enchanted School Planner in her hands.

"Oiy, Malfoy." Harry tossed a package over and it landed in Malfoy's lap.

_To: Draco Malfoy_

_Harry Potter_

His own parents hadn't sent him anything and yet he had received gifts from Ginny, Dumbledore, Mrs. Weasley, Hermione- the last one he would open-, and now **Potter**.

"This isn't-" He started, but Harry waved him off.

"Don't. It's stupid anyway. Hermione didn't tell me you were kicked off the Slytherin Quiddich team." At Potter's words, Ron looked stunned, as did Ginny. Intrigued, Draco tore off the midnight blue wrapping paper. "Sorry mate didn't know you weren't playing anymore."

Malfoy stared. They were a pair of Quiddich goggles, leather so dark it was almost black, yet tan where silver pins holding in the glass were located. Down both sides of the head straps was silver lettering spelling out _Draco Malfoy_.

Malfoy ran a finger over the glass and saw no imprint on the lenses- it was bewitched- streak proof. He turned them over and over.

"Merlin, Potter." He looked up to see Harry smiling at him.

"Like I said, I didn't know you weren't playing till our match last week. Saw Zabini and…" He trailed off and shrugged, but Malfoy shook his head.

"I don't _care_, Potter, this is-" Draco shook his head again. Harry laughed. Hermione placed a hand on Draco's as if feeling his guilt; even though Draco's pile of gifts were noticeably smaller, he still felt a swell of pride at the things he received.

"My turn!" Hermione said excitedly as to break the tension. Ginny passed the package Draco had brought to her. Malfoy looked away from Harry, a small patch of pink flushing his pale cheeks.

The paper was so beautiful that Hermione folded it off the spongy gift with deliberate care. The wrapping had reminded Draco of her when he bought it- pale sunset orange with clouds of white and streaks of blue moving realistically upon them.

It reminded him of the sunset they had watched when they took their first drink of Butterbeer as friends. It felt so long ago.

"Oh." Hermione pulled out a scarf that sparkled in the morning light. Ginny made a similar noise and scooted over, feeling the silk. It was the color dusky gold with orange and purple flashes embedded deep within the cloth, the ends tied off in large soft baubles.

"It's spider's silk."Ginny commented.

"Wrong." Draco grinned. "It is an infused cloth of Abraxan hand Graphorn hair within enchanted cloth. It's extremely durable and is constantly warm." Harry looked confused.

"What's an Abraxan and Graphorn, anyway?"

Malfoy watched as Hermione stood to wrap it around her as she spoke. "Abraxans are kind of horse-like creatures, a bit like palominos. You've seen them, Harry; they pull the carriages from Beauxbatons! And Graphorns are horned beasts whose horns are used in potions. Their hide is said to be even more spell-repellent than dragon's!" She looked wide-eyed at Draco who donned a smug little smile.

Not cheap, that was, but the look on her face made his heart swell. She swooped down to kiss him.

"Here; here Draco." Hermione pushed her present into his lap as she scooted closer. Ron got up and flicked his wand at all the discarded wrapping paper as it crumpled and flew into a large ball. As directed it over to the Common Room door; he began to do the same with the ribbon- Malfoy unwrapped his gift.

A shiny leather book cover winked up at him, yet, the lettering was the only real shine; the rest of the book looked old and weathered- extremely old- and even the title was fading.

_Light to Dark: A Witch and Wizard's Guide to Shifting the Dark Arts into White Magic _by _Dale Jarvey_

Malfoy touched the book and it shuttered.

"It recognizes its owner." Hermione beamed at him. "You'll be the only one who can open it now."

Malfoy squinted at the title. _Dark Arts_. Is that what she thought of him? He peered at Hermione who looked so innocent, so hopeful, and his momentary displeasure melted away.

She wanted to help him, how could he undermine that?

Hermione brightened as Draco lapsed into gracious laughter, embracing her.

"You are an amazing which." He murmured into her hair. Hermione blushed. "Thank you, all, you've made my Christmas." He said to the room when he let go to look around. He even smiled at Ron, who, weakly grinned back- sheepish.

Out of the corner of his silver-blue eyes, Draco saw Hermione whipping away glimmering tears of happiness. Harry smiled and Ginny fiddled with her hot chocolate, beaming down at the cup.

Draco sighed, feeling utterly content.

Nothing could spoil this soaring feeling in his heart, _nothing_.

* * *

A/n- WOW! Long! 

Okay, so I finished Deathly Hallows on Sunday and it was AMAZING! The only part I liked less then the rest was the epilogue- it seemed a little fanfic'esk- the names were a little cheesy and it seemed rushed but HEY if I was J. K. Rowling and had written 7 darkly intense books like Harry Potter _I_ would want a little frivolity at the end too so I feel I can embrace the epilogue with a little more understanding then if it was at the end of something else.

Anyway, next chapter up next Sunday! Hope the longness of this made up for the lateness!! (it was 17 pages on Word)

Review if you loved it, liked it, hated it!

Review!!!


	10. Brief

A/n- thanks to **Dubhesigrid**, _Linda_, **cmtaylor531**, _Natural-181_, **FairyPrincessWithATwist,**_ WaitingForAnAbsolution, _**ThePrincessWolf** and_ Emilee _for reviewing the previous chapter which took a very long time to write. To the rest of you: … slackers!!!!

Disclaimer: Uh- ?

Summary: It may be that Draco is no longer safe among Slytherins…

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate**

* * *

It started as a small nagging sensation at the back of Draco's mind. He would turn, irritated, and stare at the empty desk across the room. Gradually, his focus would return to his work. Yet, somehow, the fact that Gregory Goyle had not returned the day classes had resumed weighed heavily on Malfoy's mind.

He wanted to confront Zabini about it. But then, he didn't.

That would prove he was still on speaking terms with the other boy and might lead to Blaise becoming suspicious.

He wanted to write to his father. But then, he didn't.

That would lead to his _father_ becoming suspicious.

But by the second night, whereas Goyle had still not returned, Draco felt a tad more then the occasional nagging worry.

"Professor?"

Draco saw the man before him stiffen over his stack of papers, his greasy hair bent so low that it threatened to track across the fresh ink filled parchment draped over the end of the table. Shadows from the windows cast an eerie black gloom.

"Professor-" Draco tried to sound sincere, something he wasn't too sure he was capable of. He saw Hermione shift her bag uncomfortably upon her shoulder. She gave him an encouraging look,

The pair watched Snape look up at them as they stood in the doorway. His face was carefully blank.

Draco dropped his hand from the open door and moved into the candle light that spilled from Snape's desk. Hermione hung back in the doorway.

"The classroom door was open, Sir." He stated blankly, weary of the oddly piercing look he was receiving. Malfoy saw the man's gaze flicker towards Hermione before snapping back. "I wanted to ask you a question, Professor."

Snape's quill, suspended in mid air, fell back down into its ink well as the papers were pushed back.

"What," The man hissed. "Can I do for you, Draco?" The name sounded like a curse.

Draco looked away and he saw out of the corner of his vision a smile growing on Snape's face.

Was he enjoying this?

"Goyle-"

"Ah, yes."

Draco looked back to see Snape stand from his chair and fell silent. Glancing back at Hermione, he saw she was staring at the ground.

Ever since Draco had his whole head of hair practically ripped out in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Hermione had been particularly silent in the class. It was abnormal for her not to talk such, but Malfoy had the distinct impression her lack of participation was in silent protest against the way he had been treated.

The class, thus after, had become silent; none of the other students ever knew any of the answers Snape posed.

"…with his mother."

Draco looked back at Snape, his eyes wide. "What?" He said, snapped really, unintentionally.

"I said, Mr. Malfoy" And now the man was becoming annoyed. Draco tried to focus, not look at the vials of green ooze on the walls- or the dead animals. "Mr. Goyle has come down with a particular illness; he is in St. Mungo's as of late, with his mother."

Malfoy's jaw dropped open.

"But that's impossible-"

"_Why_ is that impossible,** Mr. **Malfoy?"

Draco stared stupidly at Snape. He couldn't think of an answer, but he knew, **he knew**. Goyle was not sick in any way. Malfoy had a sinking feeling that Blaise had found out what he had asked Goyle to do. What if he was dead?

Something cold and ice-like filled Draco's lungs.

What if he was _dead_?

"Now, if there is anything else I can help you or Miss. Granger with?"

Hermione shook her head, reaching to pull on Draco's sleeve, but he shrugged her off.

"Professor?" Snape looked up as he seated himself again, his greasy hair shielding his eyes. A rage built up within Malfoy; something wasn't right and he couldn't stand not knowing anymore "If my father does anything-"

"Why would I have any idea what your father is doing, Malfoy?" Snape's voice reverberated around the room, menacing. A sneer curled the man's lips, but it was laughter that Snape held back.

Draco's protest died feebly within his throat.

"I-." Malfoy mumbled, moving out of the room. As he backed into the landing outside the Professor's office, Snape flicked his wand and the door slammed shut. At the loud bang, Hermione had jumped.

"I told you it was useless to come here." She whispered, afraid that saying anything would sent Draco off. "Let's just go back to the Common Room." She laid her hand on his shoulder, tugging, but Malfoy didn't want to move- he wanted to stay and prove… something…

After a moment, Hermione gave a shuttering breath and Draco woke up from his thoughts.

"Sorry."

As they reached the hallway, they stopped as a group of Hufflepuff girls walked by, chattering wildly.

"I'm sorry about Goyle." At her words, Malfoy winced, looked away. Did she assume he was gone too? "Are we going to the Common Room?"

Draco touched her lips with his thumb. "I have to get something from the room, come with me? It's not far." But at his words, he knew- and saw- the fault in his logic. How could she come with him? The Slytherin Common Room?

Hermione looked torn.

To Draco's surprise, she nodded. At the worry in her eyes he felt guilt, but he knew she could have said no.

The dungeons were well lit at night, the torches in the walls sending black curls of smoke to the ceiling- the vapor disappearing magically into nothingness.

"It's so cold here."

"Always is." Malfoy replied, running a hand through his blonde-white hair. "We're under the lake, you know, that's why all the lights are green when you get inside. Usually we just cover the windows."

Hermione grinned. "So that's why you're so pale." She poked him beneath the ribs. Draco, glad for the darkness, was able to hide what color appeared on his cheeks.

"Wish I had the invisibility cloak." Hermione murmured offhandedly. "But… you gave that back a few weeks ago, didn't you?" Malfoy nodded.

Giving the password, Malfoy peered inside the Common Room.

"Blaise? Pansy? Crabbe!"

Hermione looked a tad uncomfortable; no one answered to the names Draco had called. He knew they liked to loiter around the Slytherin table in the Great Hall and he and Hermione _had_ gone strait after dinner to Snape's classroom. The Slytherins weren't back yet.

Draco motioned for Hermione to follow him.

"This is _exceedingly_ creepy, Draco."

Malfoy smirked and nodded to the couch. Hermione sat askew on one of the arms. Reaching down, she picked up a Slytherin goblet on the table. The silver was pure and green stones shone from the rim. Shivering, she looked into the fire, glancing around once to see Draco disappear down a short step to his dorm.

After a moment, Hermione slid down to lay on the couch, her heart pounding with the fear and- strangely pleasant- feeling of being caught.

A yell- a strangled sound- erupted from the dark. Hermione jolted; her wand out as she jumped up. The goblet fell onto the ground and spun in a lazy circle on the rug.

"Draco!" She called, fear seeping into her words. But it was Malfoy who staggered up the steps, his bag he had gotten under one arm, a piece of paper in his hands.

The terror in his gaze as he reached her, as he took her hand, frightened Hermione badly. She never imagined Draco as one to be scared- childishly competitive and a sore looser, yes- terrified, no.

"We have to see Potter."

"Wh-" Hermione started, but Draco pulled her out of the room.

.o.o.o.o.

_Draco,_

_Your mother and I wanted to give you our sincere encouragement concerning your next attempt. I know it has been hard, son, but you will prevail; for your mother, for the Dark Lord, for me. Your last attempt fell unexpectedly on Katie Bell- this mistake cannot be repeated! Do not force us to help you __**directly**__. Perform better, Draco, for the Dark Lord grows impatient._

_-LM_

Harry lowered the letter, Ron leaning back from his position over his shoulder; they looked across the Gryffindor table to see Draco slumped forward, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

"These two are the only letters you've gotten?" Malfoy had given Harry the first one he'd received.

Draco nodded mutely. Hermione reached around and traced long lined down Malfoy's back between his shoulder blades out of comfort.

"And what you've told us, about Goyle and Zabini and your father and everything, that's all?"

Another nod.

Harry let a breath rush out of his lungs. Ron looked smug.

"I _told_ you Malfoy cursed Katie."

Draco looked up, disbelieving, his mouth open and his eyes wide. He couldn't come up with a comeback of any kind.

"Ron…" Hermione started, her voice soothingly calm. "It wasn't Draco."

The redhead sniffed. "Well, it was _suppose_ to be, wasn't it? Lucius must have thought it was, didn't he? Who would **impersonate** Malfoy for Merlin's sake?"

"Zabini." Draco choked out, his throat constricted.

Harry shook his head. "If what you said about Zabini finding out about Goyle is true, and considering how much he hates you, I doubt that Blaise would miss the opportunity to take your place and not be vocal about it. If Blaise had been carrying out Draco's orders, he would have told everyone- including Malfoy's father. Why would your father, if he knew, feign ignorance if Blaise was doing your job?"

The world tilted under Draco and he felt as if he was going to be sick. "He wouldn't, that's the problem. Whoever is doing these things knows my orders and is doing them without the Dark Lord or my father's knowledge."

"Why?" Hermione questioned. "Why would anyone do that?"

Ron grimaced. "Probably going to take the credit, wouldn't he? Reveal that _he_ instead of Malfoy got 'the target'." The boy paused momentarily. "Who is 'the target' anyway?"

Everyone looked at Harry who shook his head again. "I don't know." He glanced at the grandfather clock standing against the wall.

Eleven-thirty.

Draco followed his gaze and became a tad frantic. "I don't know what I'm going to do." His heart was thudding uncomfortably. "I don't- what if- what if I'm attacked?" Everyone looked at him. "What if I'm sleeping and Blaise really does want the glory? What if he kills me? What am I going to do?" Hermione made a small noise beside him.

Ron bent down and whispered something to Harry who concealed, badly, a startled look. After a moment of consideration, Harry put down both of the letters, the ink sparkling up at the four.

"You should stay." He said simply.

Draco dropped his hands to his knees, dropped his gaze. Harry continued.

"You can stay in this Common Room; I'm not going to have you get killed- any of you three. All I need to do is destroy the remaining three Horcruxes with Dumbledore then school should be out and the Order will..." He didn't finish but flourished his hands to imitate some elaborate plan.

"You can have the couch." Ron said simply, contempt mixed with what sounded like pity in his voice.

If Draco want so preoccupied, he's have told the Weasel off. He was _enjoying_ watching Malfoy worry like this- some sick retribution.

"I don't… how…" Malfoy started but stopped short, unable to express his thanks and worry that his house would all but assassinate him for staying with the Gryffindors.

As if reading his thoughts, Harry continued. "I'll have Dobby bring up your things and place an empty trunk in its place; he'll tell the other House-Elves to keep your bed space looking lived-in."

Shakily, Draco extended a hand to Harry's, shaking it awkwardly. "Thank you, Potter…Weasley."

Harry smiled that brilliantly winning smile.

"We'll figure this out, Malfoy, don't worry."

Draco tried to match the smile, but failed.

* * *

A/n- sorry for the shotness of the chapter, but chapter 10 was always going to be short, it was planned that way. The next one will be a little short too, but after that, expect LONG chapters. 

About next Sunday….

Er- I'm going to Hawaii until next Monday, soooo one update will be skipped.

Just wanted to let you know,

Review!


	11. Evolution

A/n- I'm back and burned and reluctant for school to start- omg I'm almost a senior!!! Anyway, I'm sure I'll think up more by the end so… on with the story!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is all J. K. Rowling's (btw, did you know she has NO middle name? It's just 'J'. Freeeaaakkkyyyy…)

Summary: Stuff happens. Hehe

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate**

* * *

For the first few weeks Draco experienced nothing short of what seemed like the universe tipping completely over and possibly being shaken a few times.

It was a strange thing to, after classes, head up to the Gryffindor Common Room, sit by the fire, and stay there all night. The first time he had transfigured the couch into a kind of cot, but that didn't go over to well, so he ended up just starting to sleep on the couch itself.

By the third week, no one even sent a second glance towards him. Hermione divulged, reluctantly to him, that Harry had kindly quieted a half-hearted riot that Seamus cooked up and basically told the House to live with it. Either they were afraid of Harry himself or they thought saying anything was going to get Malfoy mad enough to curse them like he did Katie Bell.

But still, it was strange not to wake up to a four poster bed every morning…

"I told Dumbledore."

Draco looked up from his book that was propped up on a knee- Advanced Potions- while Hermione was transfiguring her quill into a radio aerial for kicks. They both glanced at Harry who had just walked through the portrait hole.

"Told him what?" Malfoy hissed.

"About this whole thing…" With one motion Draco's letters fell onto the fireside table. Malfoy stared at them, a chill going up his spine at the sight of his father's handwriting.

Hermione made a small noise. "What did he say?" The boy sat down opposite the pair and pushed the letters more towards Draco, who picked them up with a look as if he were touching something unpleasant.

Harry looked worried. "Nothing, that's just it... He said nothing. Kind of just smiled and nodded and started on about Horcruxes and memories and stuff.

"Oh wonderful." Draco simpered. "Even if we _do _have a problem the old man won't say anything about it." Hermione gave him a look but Harry nodded his head slowly.

"I was surprised…"

Malfoy dropped his book onto his lap, sneering. "I wouldn't be. Old man never cared for anything other than his school and his bloody-" He broke off in frustration, unable to bring himself to say 'Wonder Boy'.

Harry's brow knit. "I didn't mean…" But he trailed off on the look on Draco's face. Hermione put a hand on the Slytherin's shoulder. Draco sighed and pulled the most recent letter off the pile.

"I should write my father; tell him everything." He met Hermione's gaze which was fearful; she shook her head vehemently.

"That'll just make things worse."

Harry looked restless; Draco eyed him suspiciously. "Look, we've got Apparition lessons tomorrow and Ron's still practicing down at the pitch." Draco gave him the raised eyebrow look. "I don't want to start on about your father _or_ about Dumbledore; it's too late. I'm going to bed."

Malfoy picked his book back up as Harry walked up to the dorms; Hermione staring after.

"He's being worked too hard."

Draco snorted, earning another look. He was about to say another snide remark but it had become increasingly difficult for him to muster up fresh and innovative insults. His pride was getting the better of him.

"He _is_; Dumbledore shouldn't been expecting Harry to always help him with those Horcruxes! Harry's got school too!"

Draco put down the textbook again, aware that now there would be no point in studying.

"If Potter wants to go on wild goose chases then its his problem wither he can stay awake in Defense Against the Dark Arts or not, not ours."

"But-"

Malfoy looked away, the letters still clutched within his hands. He felt Hermione tug his arm.

"I'm just trying to help." Hermione sounded a tad defeated. Draco whirled his tongue against his teeth, thinking.

"I believe Potter cannot do this on his own, but he is reluctant for you and the Weasel to help. By that stupidity alone I don't think we should bother."

Hermione pursed her lips, annoyed. Draco reached over and traced his hand through her hair.

"I wouldn't worry." Draco grinned.

"Speak for yourself."

.o.o.o.o.

"Oiy, oiy get up!"

Someone was yelling very loudly in Draco's ear. He mumbled and tried to ignore it.

"Yu know, I dun think I like yu being 'ere every time I wake up! Get up!"

Malfoy murmured softly, "Finnigan, drop dead."

"Did yu hear that?!"

Malfoy sat up blearily, his school shirt from the night before still plastered to his chest. His book fell into his lap. To Draco's chagrin, after a while, waking up to people milling about became nearly normal. He looked at Seamus who was currently pointing wildly at him to a group of fourth years.

Draco groaned, and slid off the couch to get ready for Apparition, Seamus' voice still ringing in his ears. He had nothing against Irishmen, but did they have to scream so?

"Are you ready?" A voice called as he walked out from the boy's dormitory bathroom ten minutes later. He looked up to see Hermione standing by the fire, her wand out and flicking at his bed, cleaning it up.

"House- elves!" He grumbled loudly. Hermione ignored him as she munched on a piece of toast with jam. Draco's mouth watered.

"Good morning!" Hermione beamed at him, "How was the couch."

Same question every morning.

"Better if you were there with me."

Same answer.

Hermione's cheeks turned pink as Lavender Brown swiveled her head as she passed; apparently she had heard them.

While Hermione was distracted, Draco snaked a hand around her waist, pulling her close. Leaning down he bit a chunk out of the toast that was pinched between Hermione's fingers. She look at him as he licked strawberry jam off his lower lip.

"I haven't had breakfast!" He reasoned, running a hand through his white-blonde hair. Hermione huffed, smiling still.

As they walked down to the Great Hall, Hermione detached herself from Draco's side.

"I'm going to go see if I can find Harry and Ron; they left a little earlier then we did."

Draco nodded, someone pushing past him as Hermione left to bob through the crowd of students. Malfoy stifled a yawn, hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks. He glowered, tried to look menacing, force of habit.

"Draco…" A simpering voice wafted over the chatter from somewhere behind him.

Malfoy turned and saw Pansy stepping down the staircase into the Entrance Hall. Sneering, Draco turned away.

"Draco!" She said a little more forcefully, taking the final two steps in one awkward little hop.

"What do you want?"

The other students walked by as he and Pansy stood stalk still in the middle of the hallway. Malfoy noted how much more frail she looked from the last time he saw her- well, he'd seen her in classes, but not up close. He saw the way she kept looking over her shoulder.

"Checking for Blaise?"

He had meant it as a joke but Pansy looked terrified. She leaned in and went oddly quiet, whispering.

"He'll see me."

"Who?"

Pansy shuttered, her haunting gaze meeting his grey eyes. "It's not the same Draco; we're not the same."

With a sickening sensation, Malfoy realized he could see every single outline of her collarbone. He turned his head away and without looking at her, whispered. "What's going on Pansy?" As he spoke he was scanning the crowd for Blaise or any of the other Slytherins.

"It's all wrong." She said in a rush, a dry sob in her throat. Looking back at her, Malfoy remembered when she giggled sickeningly in class; he hadn't heard her laugh in a long while. "You were never evil Draco. You weren't _mad_."

Malfoy tried to catch her thin arm but she moved away from him, looking back over her shoulder.

"Why are you even speaking to me?"

Pansy gave a shuttering breath. "Because he's worse… he'll kill you."

"Who? Blaise?"

Pansy nodded once then shook her head vigorously, dissolving back into the crowd. Draco tried to follow her but a group of Ravenclaws stepped in his way. He wanted to call her name to stop her, to question her, but he didn't want to raise suspicion. The crowd thinned and she was gone.

Muttering, his heart thumping with adrenaline, he followed the sea of students into the Great Hall. To his dismay he saw that everyone was already spaced out. He looked around wildly and saw Crabbe standing in the back by himself, then he caught Hermione's gaze. She made a motion but he put a finger to his lips and as the final students situate themselves he found a space next to Crabbe.

"Vincent." He hissed. Crabbe stiffened but didn't turn round. "Hey!" Crabbe glanced over and grinned sickeningly.

"Haven't seen you around lately, Malfoy."

Draco ignored this.

"What's going on in Slytherin?"

Crabbe sniffed airily. "Don't you know? I mean, you _sleep_ there, don't you?" Malfoy bit down on his tongue but the boy continued. "It's a new House, Malfoy, a new House. You've always talked but never acted on our Pureblood's defense; Zabini, he is a true prince of Slytherin."

"Pansy looks like she's dying or don't you care?" Malfoy murmured but Crabbe seemed unconcerned.

"She never eats, it's not our problem."

"Good morning," said the Ministry wizard, his voice airy, but Malfoy wasn't listening.

_If Potter wants to go on wild goose chases then it's his problem…_

"My name is Wilkie Twycross…" The man upfront continued.

A swell of anger bubbled within Malfoy's chest. Pansy never interested him, she was more a friend then anything: yes, annoying and full of blither, but a friend and a _women_. "Is Blaise hurting her?"

Crabbe shrugged.

"Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!" barked McGonagall.

Malfoy flushed a dull pink; he was furious as he stepped away from Crabb, the whispered argument over. He glanced at Snape, who also looked annoyed, then at Hermione, who was staring at him.

"Now that you are all spaced out nicely…" Hoops appeared in front of every student as the Ministry official waved his wand.

"I don't know what's going on, but I swear to god Crabbe I'll find out, all right?" Malfoy shot at him, oblivious to the man speaking. The boy opened his mouth but Draco cut him off. "I swear I'll figure it out."

"Yeah, like Goyle did, hmm?"

Malfoy spun around on the spot, his hand flying to his wand.

Blaise Zabini was standing directly behind him, arms folded, smirking smartly.

At that moment the four Heads of Houses shouted, "Quiet!" and Draco turned slowly to face the front again.

His hands were shaking.

.o.o.o.o.

Instead of keeping all to himself, Draco spilled everything he head heard with Pansy, Crabbe, and Blaise to Potter, the Weasel and Hermione over dinner. Harry promised to bring it up with Dumbledore, which he did, but the man again did not react.

The four were slightly stunned.

Slowly, over time, the number of Slytherin incidents dwindled and died and by the time February was coming to a close. The House seemed to be quieter then the Hufflepuffs. It was strange, they all ate in silence, were silent in class, and a few of the girls looked haggard. The boys, they looked fine, if not more impressive, especially Blaise. They would strut around with Zabini at the helm of their little group.

Twice did Draco try and corner Pansy, who was the thinnest and most placid looking Slytherin girl, to no success. Finally, he gave up.

February moved steadily towards March with no significant change in the weather, with exception to it becoming windy as well as wet. To general indignation a sign went up on all common room notice boards that the next trip to Hogsmead had been canceled.

Draco watched on his couch as Ron's calm demeanor deteriorated.

"It was on my birthday!" he said. "I was looking forward to that!"

"Not a big surprise." Harry said as he sat down by the fire and nursed a cup of cocoa. "Not after what happened to Katie." He glanced at Malfoy over the rim of the mug.

This same mood of constant containment lasted for the next two days, another Apparition lesson and Ron's birthday eclipsed in the constant feeling of being cooped up in Hogwarts. Although, Draco didn't know why the Weasel was complaining about his birthday, he got more gifts that Draco on_ his_ last birthday.

**Malfoy** even gave him a gift- it was snide- but a gift: a receipt for twenty dollars off any Weasley Wizard Wheezes product.

"Thanks Malfoy." Ron managed though gritted teeth. Draco grinned.

That night he and Hermione were sitting cozily by the fire, her doing school work and he reading _Light to Dark: A Witch and Wizard's Guide to Shifting the Dark Arts into White Magic_.

Out of curiosity, he had started on the chapter that dealt with Occlumency and Legilimency.

**Occlumency: **

**"occlusum" - L. to block or close + "mens" - L. mind**

**To close your mind…. Clear your thoughts…**

Draco already knew this, why he picked it first to read was beyond him. But then, at the bottom of the page he saw a reference to the Impirus Curse.

**Counter This Curse**

**Similar to:**

**Imperius Curse**

He flipped through the book.

**Imperio **_**(im-PAIR-ee-oh)**_

**"impero" L. order, govern, command **

**One of the **Unforgivable Curses**, this spell causes the victim to be completely under the command of the caster, who can make the victim do anything the caster wishes. A victim of this spell is said to have been Imperiused. **

It went on a little talking about the curse's history, then something caught Draco's eye.

**To Turn It White:**

**The best way to resist this curse is to think of a subject/time/object (etc.) that not only clears one's mind and makes one calm, but also provides a good solid basis for complete thought and logic. Something familiar. **

Malfoy grimaced; it was like Greek.

He glanced at Hermione who was sitting across from him and grinned.

…_clears one's mind…something familiar…_

He thought of her against a wall, her hair plastered against her neck with sweat, eyes closed. Draco could feel her breath on his neck and her hand fluttering against his arm. Her chest rose and fell against his. He felt her hip against his, his knee on the inside of her bare thigh.

Hermione sneezed and Draco promptly dropped the book he was holding. She looked up and Malfoy knew his face was flushed crimson. The book snapped magically shut. He leaned down to get it, his eyes still on Hermione.

She looked so innocent, eyes blinking, searching his. Momentarily Malfoy felt a bit dizzy.

"Hey!" Someone yelled, and the two looked up to see Ginny. "Ron's been poisoned!"

"What?" Draco and Hermione said at the same time.

"He's in the Hospital Wing!"

.o.o.o.o.

"So, all in all, not one of Ron's better birthdays?" Fred questioned. Malfoy snickered and George glanced at him approvingly.

Malfoy tuned out while the twins explained their recent Hogsmead trip and how they had heard about their brother. He glanced at Harry who was sitting by the Weasel's bed. Draco moved over to him.

"How exactly did it happen, Potter?"

The boy retold the story about Slughorn and his office.

"So the poison was in the drink?" Hermione asked fearfully as she looked over Draco's shoulder. Harry nodded.

Draco snorted. "Slughorn wouldn't want to poison R- Merlin!" Everyone looked at him. "Who was the bottle originally for? Come on Potter, you're brighter then this."

Harry looked alarmed. "He said it was for Dumbledore." Draco nodded.

"That's right! Ten to one that's the target! Ten to one I get another letter tomorrow morning!"

The twins looked oblivious but Ginny coughed. "Would Slughorn want to poison Dumbledore? I thought 'Draco' was doing You-Know-Who's job."

Hermione patted Draco's hand. "I bet Slughorn didn't even know about it." Harry got up from his chair.

"You see to Ron, I'm going to the Headmaster."

The twins, Ginny, Draco, and Hermione watched him sprint out the Infirmary door.

The next morning a strange Owl dropped a letter onto Malfoy's thankfully empty plate. Harry wasn't down for breakfast, Ron was still bedridden, but Hermione and Ginny were there; Draco was grateful for this or else he would have gone on a mad rampage at the sight of his father's script again.

Hermione looked at him, scared.

Draco didn't even read the letter, just scanned it.

_Disappointed… something more drastic…out of your hands if you don't… Dark Lord… your mother and I… my honor…failure!_

At the bottom, under his father's hurried signature was a post script.

_Owl me your next plans and I will try to help you._

Grabbing a quill out of his bag Draco tore off a piece of parchment and scribbled back.

_It's not me! Stop Owling! I don't know what you're talking about!_

As the Owl flew off, Draco's letter around its ankle, Malfoy stole a glance at the Headmaster who was sipping curtly on his morning drink. Beside him Snape got up and excused himself.

He locked eyes with Draco, who turned away.

* * *

This chapter gave me the most trouble I have EVER had writing this fic or its predecessor; it was horrible and I vehemently hated pages one through three.

I know I shouldn't give excuses but on top of hating it I had a lot to do.

Blaise is not physically hurting Pansy or any of the women; Draco just thought it was possible. I don't think you could call what Blaise is doing to any of the Slytherins 'physical'.

Thanks to Harry Potter Lexicon for the spell stuff!!

Onto chapter 12 (the exciting one)

Review please!


	12. White

A/n- Thanks to those awesome people who reviewed the last chapter: **heart5**, _Lindasweden_, **Syranda**, _ThePrincessWolf_, **Lidaani**, _bundibird_, **OBLuvr13**, and _Dwindlingcandle_. And everyone who didn't review: thx for reading too (you're loved just as much).

Disclaimer: Ahahahahahahahahahaha... wooo... mmmm...wahahaha.

Summary: The beginning of the end- sort of.

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate**

* * *

The days- and months- after Ron's induction into the Hogwarts infirmary, and his release from it, passed with what Draco thought was very little action or notable experience.

There was one quip of interest, on April tenth or so, when news of Katie Bell spread through the castle. She was let out for a brief holiday from St. Mungo's to be with her parents; she returned to the hospital soon after for more care- they said she wouldn't return to Hogwarts that year. Most suspected this was a ruse, Draco surely did. Perhaps her parents were just scared; didn't want their daughter in peril, did they?

May soon slipped away with nothing to do; it was kind of monotonous if Draco was to be frank.

In fact, it got even dryer when Harry had stopped divulging to the group anything that had to do with Horcruxes. To their knowledge there were still three left; and then one night, Harry Potter never came back to the Common Room.

"This isn't _normal_." Hermione flopped down onto one of the armchairs by the fire.

Draco sniffed and went back to his work.

"Where's Ron?"

Malfoy looked over at her. "The same place he was half an hour ago; his dormitory." Hermione looked slightly distracted as she wrung her hands together. Draco raised an eyebrow at her; she looked overly worried. "Come here." He said softly.

Hermione looked at him and he made a slight kind of motion.

She got up and sat down next to him; he pulled her into an embrace.

"I wouldn't worry about Potter; he's fine on his own." Draco ran a hand through his hair and tried to ward off his own feeling of unease.

Hermione bit her lip. "At least with Ron up here I know he wouldn't do anything too adventurous."

"How is the Weasel by the way?" Malfoy had remembered how sullen the boy had been when he came out of the Infirmary. It was either because of his falling out with Lavender Brown or the fact that Harry had started dating Ginny- Draco had no idea _why_ he knew this and, to be perfectly honest with himself, felt kind of abashed to fill up his quite useful and cunning brain with Hogwart's social idiosyncrasies.

Hermione opened her mouth and then shook her head, giving a full shoulder shrug. "Who knows?"

Draco put his arms around her and pulled her into his lap as he laid back against the couch. Hermione looked at him with wide eyes but Draco only smirked.

"Whatif-"

"Shh, everyone's in bed; who would come out at this time of night?"

Hermione relaxed into his shoulder and rested her head against his chest, sighing gently. Malfoy ran a hand through her bushy hair, twirling it round his pale fingers, marveling at the way the golden brown hue made him look even whiter.

He could feel Hermione's breath warm his collarbone.

"Draco?"

"Mmm?" He fluffed her hair and traced his finger across her shoulder blade, up across her neck and down her front. He could feel goose bumps as the pad of his finger crossed to the swell of her breast.

Hermione shifted slightly. "Stop it."

Draco snickered and thought that she didn't sound very convincing. He planted a kiss on the shell of her ear.

The fire flickered and they both jumped as the log in the hearth cracked and popped as it broke apart. Draco felt Hermione relax again, yet he could tell something was on her mind, she was usually more… responsive then this.

"What?"

Hermione paused as if weighing her answer.

Draco could tell he wasn't going to like this.

"Your father."

Malfoy groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Lets not, shall we?"

"But-"

Draco glared but Hermione continued.

"Have you gotten another letter yet?"

"No." Malfoy shook his head. "I would think that given the nature of my- well it wasn't really a letter… my _words- _he would have done _something_…"

He winced as Hermione slid onto the couch and off his leg. "Well, I'm sorry to have brought it up. I just wanted to know."

Draco smiled and looked into the dying fire, the heat hitting him in the face. "I'm sure everything is just fine."

Hermione yawned and stretched out on the couch; Draco took her legs into his lap. He smiled down at the knee-high flannel shorts upon which dancing witch's hats were printed.

"The Weasel's mum give you these?"

Hermione shook her head. "Bought them a little while ago in Hogsmead."

"Cute." Draco let his hand play around the hem of one of the short's leg holes.

After a moment's pause, Hermione spoke up again.

"I'm tired; I think I'll go to bed."

Draco looked at her, his eyes wide and a sly smile on his face. Hermione noticed the look and shook her head, a similar smile flickering across her face.

"No. No, no, no, and no."

Draco propped himself up on his knees and leaned over her laid out form. "But you know how lonely I am here in the Common Room by myself."

A small smile appeared on Draco's lips as he saw Hermione's resolve slowly breaking down. He trailed a finger down her cheek over and over again; she was staring at his lips.

Hermione regarded him coyly. "Fine. But I'm not staying down here all night."

Malfoy let out a small sigh as he let himself down on top of the girl, propping his head up over hers' to kiss her. He saw Hermione's eyes flutter shut.

Perhaps he could persuade her…

.o.o.o.o.

It was nearly midnight when Draco awoke, something making him jump mid-sleep. The Common Room came into focus as a blur; he rubbed his eyes and something stirred next to him. Looking down to his left he saw Hermione curled under one of his Slytherin blankets. He smiled.

Getting up gently as not to wake her, Malfoy pulled the blanket higher over the girl's shoulders, over the nightshirt with the three undone buttons near the top. His hand trailed down her arm and she rolled over.

Looking around the room, he noticed that the fire had been re-stoked and was blazing gently.

Draco started pacing.

Something was bothering him; he had had a dream.

He paused mid-stride.

But he couldn't remember it.

The pace continued.

Twice he glanced at Hermione; her calm face and closed eyelids that flickered with sleep.

He felt tired, his grey eyes lidded, but something kept him up.

On a whim, a very insecure whim, he exited the Common Room; his veins screaming for fresh air and his mind scrabbling for a calm, noiseless room. The portrait hole swung open noiselessly and as he slid out, he was sure to close the picture with care.

Looking back in the frame, he saw the Fat Lady snoring on her little table.

He walked slowly, carefully, for he had no invisibility; that little gem was with Potter. As his footsteps reverberated off the stone, Draco lapsed into thought.

Perhaps just a short walk around the lake. It was dangerous, he might meet a teacher, but then… everything seemed so quiet the last few months. The lack of uproar was definitely due to the lack of… anything concerning the Slytherins.

Reflecting now, Malfoy had a pretty good guess as why Blaise was able to secure the upper hand on the House; he intimidated. And as for Pansy and the rest of the girls? Well, male Slytherins had always prized themselves on image, so _they_ had no problem lapping up whatever propaganda Zabini was feeding them, but the women? He was probably terrorizing them, threatening them not to tell anyone about whatever he was doing.

But _why_?

If he was a Deatheater, if he did have the Dark Mark, then the answer was obvious- he was building a Slytherin army… of mostly males. He never seemed to trust women- even _Pansy _when they all use to be together. Malfoy never had asked why. Perhaps something led to his mistrust of the Slytherin girls.

As he stepped down into the Entrance Hall something banged up the staircase- a door had snapped shut. Draco swiveled around and saw something black and bat-like sweep around the corner.

His heat was beating loudly as he sprinted to flatten himself against the wall.

He waited a long while until he was sure there would be no other sound, doubled back, and crept up the stairs towards the movement that went off down the corridor. He pulled out his wand in the process.

From somewhere above, Malfoy could hear the wind crash against the walls of the castle, rattling the windows and sending a chill down through its hallways.

The brackets into which torches were held barred chilled wind as the long wicks flickered, nearly dying as their red flame dipped low against the wax. Red turned flame blue as the heat was whisked away by the breeze.

Who was strolling the corridors at this time of night? Zabini?

Malfoy's wand, held close against his chest, was steady; its tip pointed a fraction out in front of him.

A sudden chill swept the dark hall and goose bumps raised upon his flesh.

Draco wished he hadn't left his cloak back in the Gryffindor Common Room. Musing, Draco noted how particularly cold it was at this time of night.

The _cold…_

Draco ran a hand through his pale hair.

He had more pressing things to think about then the _cold._

Something had been making his hair stand on end for months- the whole year even. It wasn't Blaise; he was a bother but it wasn't a hair-raising chill he got from the boy.

But this… person… strolling the corridors. This was probably the only time he would be able to investigate.

Malfoy kept his back against the stone wall, his body pressed against it as he slowly followed the sounds of softly padding feet.

There was no turning back now, he was bound to figure this whole thing out sometime, he just had to bite the bullet and take the plunge.

Grudgingly, _very _grudgingly, Malfoy wished Potter would hurry back from his fool's errand with Dumbledore. As much as he had grown close to the boy, if whatever kind of thin trust there was could be called 'closeness', Draco was still reluctant to admit he needed help.

Still, he would have liked to have a little more wand power- other than just himself- if anything should happen.

He certainly wouldn't have asked Weasel to come; he had enough problems to deal with apparently. With Harry gone and Ron dismissed as a possible companion, Hermione would certainly had accompanied him, but that would have been stupid and Draco knew it. If this… thing was dangerous, if what was going to happen would put him in harms way, then Hermione had to be kept out of it for as long as possible, she had to be protected.

Draco stopped short as he realized the footsteps he had been following had ceased. A breath shuttered from within his chest as adrenaline coursed through him, his heart beating loudly in his ears.

Slowly, Malfoy inched forward along the hallway to a cracked door that seemed to be etched right in the stone of the wall. Malfoy's jaw dropped open at the intricately carved wood and frame, his wand lowering by a fraction. Hollow sounds echoed from within the room and out into the hallway, spilling darkness.

Malfoy's wand snapped back up.

He could do this; he was Draco bloody Malfoy- the **true **Prince of Slytherin.

He wasn't afraid.

He sucked in a deep breath from between his clenched teeth and lunged forward, throwing open the door to the class room; it swung back against its hinge with a bang and the a pitch blackness emanated from within.

Squinting, Malfoy peered into the room, his wand out as he leaned farther in.

"Lum-"

With a brilliant light, the room illuminated, blinding Draco momentarily, his hand not holding the wand flew up to cover his grey eyes.

That wasn't his spell.

As the room dimmed, Draco's eyes adjusted. Slowly, his hand dropped, and Malfoy peered over his palm.

He froze.

It wasn't the pure whiteness of the room that had stunned him.

It wasn't the large oak cabinet erected in the center of the floor, rattling loudly, that had caught him off guard.

It was that, standing next to the cabinet, in the whitewashed room, was a figure leaning against the wood- one hand on the handle of the cupboard and the other on his wand, his silver white hair shinning and pale blue eyes staring.

A smirk crossed the thin lips of the lounging figure, a dangerous gleam reflecting in his cold eyes.

Draco couldn't speak.

He couldn't breath.

Draco Malfoy was staring at Draco Malfoy.

"No…" Was all that issued from Draco's parted lips as the counterfeit Malfoy raised his wand.

"Imperio!"

And the world dissolved.

.o.o.o.o.

It was lovely; just the pure whiteness that Draco had been wanting, aching for. Faintly, he could hear words and laughing, and a smile twitched over his lips.

Was it _he_ who was laughing?

Was it Hermione?

His smile faltered and he felt his legs and arms stiffen.

Hermione?

Something told him not to relax, not to breathe, not to do anything. The laughter in his ears died.

If he was to be blissfully happy, he wanted Hermione to be there and yet, every time he thought of her, she was gone. At one moment he could see her fawn eyes and her bouncing hair, hear her sweet laugh- which was nothing like the maniacal giggling from before. But then, why was she gone once her memory resurfaced?

"Hermione!" Malfoy fell to the ground and something came up to meet him, sharp, stinging. His vision cleared momentarily and he saw he was sprawled out, the moving staircase steps below him. His knee had hit the sharp edge of one of the steps.

"Shut up! Shut up!" A haunting voice said in his ear. His own voice- Draco's voice- his own, his… "Get up, stand up! Imperio!"

Ah, nothingness, whiteness, blankness. Calm like the ocean pressing up against his ears. To be so relaxed. He saw Hermione smile at him in his mind; he smiled back. But then, the image faltered and Draco's mind was clear.

The Imperious Curse.

"No. No!" Draco was lashing out but the other Malfoy had both his wands.

**The best way to resist this curse is to think of a subject/time/object (etc.) that not only clears one's mind and makes one calm, but also provides a good solid basis for complete thought and logic. Something familiar. **

That was it.

Draco focused on Hermione so hard he felt pressure behind his eyes, and when he opened them again, he saw the seething Malfoy across from him, standing, as Draco was now crouched on the floor, sweat dripping off his forehead.

Something was wrong with the counterfeit Malfoy, for he looked strangled and lopsided, as if he was taller then he should be. Draco watched as the skin on the fake Draco bubble.

Polyjuice potion.

Draco's mouth dropped open as the figure holding a wand to his throat rippled and the façade slowly faded away.

Severus Snape stood before him.

"You bastard." Draco spat. "You bloody son of a-"

Snape kneeled down and pressed his wand to Draco's neck with more force.

"I would be quiet if I were you, _Mr._ Malfoy, lest the whole school comes running."

"I won't follow you! Potter was right, Potter said-"

Snape hit Draco's forehead and Malfoy's skull cracked on the stone behind it. He had been backed into the wall.

"I will hear nothing about Harry Potter! You will be quiet Draco! Crucio! Imperio!"

Pain and bliss mingled over Draco's body and as much as he wished to cry out in pain the only thing that gurgled passed his lips was a half laugh half moan that was bitten off in the end as he tried to close his mouth. Blood swept down his throat as he realized he had bitten his tongue.

"Up."

Draco stood shakily.

"Now, you're going to do exactly as I say."

Malfoy knew, after a few moments, that before, Snape had underestimated Draco. This new Imperius Curse was a redoubled effort and was borderline painful. Malfoy felt his wand press back into his palm and as much as he envisioned Hermione and as much as he wanted to hex the old Potion's teacher into the next century, his feet would only move as he felt himself go up and up and up flights of stairs.

Inwardly, he wanted to weep.

"Now Draco, you will do everything I tell you to. I know you know Occlumency but the Imperius Curse renders you incapable of countering my ability to invade your mind. Perform well, Draco Malfoy, Deatheater, and loyal one to Voldemort."

Malfoy could do nothing as Snape dissolved into the shadows and Malfoy was forced to climb higher to the Astronomy Tower door. He could hear noise behind it. The clamp on his mind tightened and the world spun dangerously under his feet.

**"**Aohomora!"

The door burst open and he jumped though it shouting, "Expelliarmus!"

The hazy figure before him's wand flew up into the air.

Draco fought himself, felt a Curse bubble up inside him, and tried to counter it.

"Avada- Reducto!" The wand of the figure's bust into a million little fragments and fell around the pair like rain. There seemed to be no one else in the tower.

"Good evening, Draco."

Malfoy felt his lips move as sweat rolled down his cheek.

"Who else is here?"

"A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?"

Malfoy's mind raced; it was Dumbledore. He had to stop this. He had to- Hermione, think about Hermione.

"No!" He shouted, and this time, it was his own real voice. But then, pain licked his body like fire and he ceased to think.

Moments later his mind seemed to reboot. Sound whizzed by his head like it was on fast-forward.

"… You're at my mercy." He heard himself say.

"No, Draco," said Dumbledore quietly. "It is my mercy-" he was about to speak but Malfoy suddenly burst though- painful though it was.

"Stop!" He shouted, his lungs burning, as he nearly fell over; his wand dropping. What would Hermione say if she knew what he was doing?

The Headmaster paused momentarily, leaning forward.

"No! Stop!" Draco clutched his head. "Get out! You bastard! Get out of me!" His hands came off of his silver head and his wand pointed back out at Dumbeldore, yet his hands were trembling and his wand dropped a fraction.

Suddenly there were footsteps behind him and whiteness was swirling again in his mind.

"Dumbeldore cornered! Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!"

His head ached. His lungs burned. He couldn't think strait and he ignored the conversation carrying on without him.

There were banging noises behind him.

But his head, oh his head. Draco kept Hermione in his mind; her lips, her breasts, her smell…

"Now, Draco, quickly!"

But his hand was shaking so badly, his whole body was quaking.

"I'll do it." Someone said.

"No!" Someone else yelled harshly.

Draco screamed. He didn't know if it was outloud or not.

"Severus…"

Malfoy panted, his hands on his knees, and he realized he was doubled over, shaking. His mind was clearing; he could see what was going on. His lifted his head up, but with what little strength he had, it was all he could do.

Snape was gazing at Dumbledore, his back to Draco. Malfoy could see apprehension in his shoulders, see the man tense.

"Severus… please."

Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbeldore.

Malfoy twitched.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light shot from the end of Snape's wand and hit Dumbledore squarely in the chest.

Draco's scream of horror reverberated around the tower as he bolted forward, stumbling; someone had pushed him from behind.

The Headmaster's body flew back and over the battlements and out of sight.

For all the old man's insanity and batty old ways, Potter had always spoke highly of him… he was the foundation of Draco and Hermione's ability to stand up to the school. He had given them courage, praise, and hope. He had _accepted_ them. He was more a father, however distant, than Draco's own.

Draco felt tears running down his face.

"Now." Snape reached down and pulled Malfoy up by the collar. "We're getting out of here." Draco was being dragged across the stone.

Momentarily, though the haze of pain and loss, Draco realized that a silencing charm must have been placed over him- because he was still screaming, yet no sound issued from his lips.

* * *

A/n- I know Katie Bell was suppose to be back at school, but she's not. Heh. I hope the length makes up for the lateness. 

I'm gonna be 18 on Saturday! Woo!

Review if you like it, love it, hate it. Maybe as a birthday present?


	13. Cold

A/n- Thanks to **NotSoSweet.** _Bundibird_, **Dwindlingcandle **, _ThePrincessWolf_, **OBLuvr13**, _heart5_, and **Lildaani** for the review! You guys are super, super awesome!

Disclaimer: EH?!

Summary: Let the games begin...

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate**

* * *

Although Draco was sure he was alive, at the exact same time, he swore he was in hell- for all around him was the smell of burnt things- in his nose, in his mouth, in his lungs. He jolted awake and took a rasping breath only to choke and spit, coughing out ash and cinder.

His body ached.

Cracking open his eyes he found the world to be tilted. Realizing he was laying partly on his side, his legs under him; his panic grew. Closing his eyes he tried to recall what had happened before.

Running; running and screaming. Someone had called his name but he couldn't recall why. Snape was there, pulling him along by the arm, another Death Eater pulling him by the other. He remembered tears falling down his face and the two men having to pick him up as his legs kept sliding on the stone.

And then they were out of the castle and had Dissaperated.

Malfoy groaned and blinked open his long pewter lashes. He jumped, his arms wrenching horribly. Draco realized he was sitting in a small pit of gray powder. Stomach lurching he realized, looking around, that he was sitting- crouching- in the middle of the fire pit in the Malfoy Manor's private library. The logs and small stand-alone fire grate had been removed from the center hearth but they had let the ashes remain.

_They_…

Looking around he saw that the armchairs had been removed from the room as well. The only thing that remained to give clue that this had once been a small read-in study was the looming bookcase that molded itself along the circular room's walls; interrupted only by the dark door-less staircase.

Draco tried to wipe the soot off his brow but found that his hands were chained tightly back to a large metal rung that had been magically secured there in the hearth. He couldn't even pull his hands up but six inches from the ground behind him.

His mouth was so dry…

A noise issued from upstairs and Draco cowered.

Would they kill him? Now that his father knew about his disloyalty, would they torture him? Rip him apart? Send his mangled body back to The Order as a lesson?

Or worse…

Would they proclaim him a hero to the Wizarding World… say _he_ killed Dumbledore?

Malfoy took shallow breaths; partly from not wanting to inhale charred wood and partly from the feeling that his lungs had suddenly constricted. Pupils dilated from fear, he could make out every shape around him in the dark.

The lamps on the walls suddenly burst on.

Draco's chest heaved and he tried to slump down again, look as if he was still unconscious. He heard people coming down the staircase.

Someone was crying.

As the group of people entered the room, spread out along the wall, Draco was assaulted by the sound of his mother's piteous crying from in front of him.

"Oh, Draco! My Draco! No… oh wake him up! My son!"

"See if the boy is living Amycus…"

The hissing snake like voice made ice flood Draco's veins. His brain was suddenly screaming over and over and over.

His mother let out a strangled cry just as a foot connected with Draco's stomach. His eyes burst open as he coughed into the hearth; curling up to protect himself.

"Boy's alive, my Lord."

"Sit up, Draco." Voldemort said. Draco's chest heaved. "Sit up." He commanded again.

Slowly, Malfoy pulled his legs under him and sat hunched over. Bringing his head up slowly he saw his mother and father standing across from him at the wall. Narcissa bolted towards Draco and flung her arms around him, a plume of ash nearly choking him.

Over her shaking shoulders Malfoy saw, alongside his father, four other Deatheaters- one of them obviously Amycus- and three others he wasn't sure he recognized, Snape, and finally, Voldemort.

"Ah yes, Narcissa, your boy is safe; Lord Voldemort is very please, very pleased."

"I- I don't know what I would have done…. if anything would have happened to you, Draco! Draco… oh Draco." She was cooing softly and petting his brilliantly blond head over and over again. "I don't know what I would have done…"

Voldemort looked sidelong at Lucius. "Ah, Narcissa, Narcissa; I think we can safely assume that you would have done absolutely anything for him…" His slit like eyes widened considerably. "_Anything_, Narcissa, correct?"

Draco felt his mother go ridged, her grip tightening. She was shaking minutely. Slowly, she let him go, pried herself off him. Malfoy looked at her wide eyed as she stood. Her face was carefully blank; like stone. Sniffing, she stood back with his father.

They were silent for a few moments, all of them, and Draco got the distinct impression that Voldemort was waiting for something.

Finally, his father raised his chin and, looking down his nose at Draco, addressed him. "It has come to my knowledge that you have still been in the company of that Mudblood!" Draco would have hexed his father back four generations if he had his wand; Lucius continued. "How dare you…" His voice was soft and dangerous. "After your correspondence! I had faith in you, Draco. And now I have learned that Snape has killed Dumbledore instead of you. You're plan was flawless!" He was leaning forward as if to emphasize his point. "And after our help and Severus' instruction!"

Malfoy's mouth dropped open; he strained against the chain that bound him. "_What_!?" Snape made a slight moment and Draco's head snapped over to him. His gaze lingered over the man- he was glaring so intensely that Draco thought he was about to burst into flame. Ignoring the look, he continued. "I don't know what fantasy you have been living in, _father_, but no letter of mine has ever graced your presence! You are delusion! _Snape_? _Plan_? Are you _insane_?"

There was complete and total resounding silence. Everyone looked at one another, even the masked Deatheaters peered around.

His mother was crying again.

Lucius looked extremely confused. "How- how is… you are lying. They have brainwashed my only son! They have Obliviated his memory!"

"Oh Lucius…"

The sound, the hiss, issued from Voldemort lips so sweetly it was nearly as if he was comforting the man. He moved around the room to circle Draco, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Lord Voldemort knows all, Draco. You should have realized that."

Malfoy felt ill.

"Do you know, Draco, why your father believes he had been receiving letters from you? Lord Voldemort knows, yes…." He smiled; bloodthirsty. "Yes… he does."

Snape had turned white as a sheet, had tore his eyes away from Draco. He was staring at the shuttering Narcissa Malfoy.

Draco couldn't respond to the absurd question; his mouth was too dry.

Voldemort clucked his tongue. "It seems as if I must educate you all- well…" That smile again. He peered at the other figures in the room. "… almost everyone. You see, Draco, _you_ have not been corresponding with your father and I at all- not _you_ by any means. You have been dealing with the Mudblood Granger and Harry Potter… yes… But _someone _was sending us Owls all year. _Someone _was sure that my plan for you- to kill that fool Dumbledore- was to be carried out. _Someone _was taking your place,Draco… "

Malfoy wanted to wretch every time he said his name… but then… something clicked in his mind.

Draco suddenly looked up at Snape.

"Ah, yes, Draco!" Voldemort hissed loudly. "You have always been a smart, smart boy. How proud your father must be… Yes, your Severus Snape has been impersonating you all year, you see, and he has been writing your father, carrying out your plans, doing _your _good deeds."

Malfoy was searching Snape's face, which looked livid. "My hair…" He said slowly, as if he were in a dream. "Polyjuice potion…" He blinked up at the man. "You pulled out my hair at the beginning of the year!"

"Be silent!" Snape hissed, barely moving his lips. Draco noticed his hands were balled into fists.

Voldemort laughed cruelly. "Let the boy speak Severus, for he is a bright wizard!"

Draco's mind was racing; he was staring at the wall; wouldn't look at his father. Why? Why would he…

"Why?"

"Oh, Draco." Voldemort mused. "If there is one thing I have learned from Harry Potter…" He trailed off and looked at Narcissa who was cowering behind her husband. His toothy grin, the mad smile he wore, grew exponentially. "… was the extent of a mother's love."

Stunned, Lucius Malfoy stepped away from his wife. "What is this?" He demanded. Narcissa began to weep bitterly.

"I had to, my Lord!" She was pleading as she slid to her knees, hands clasped together in a kind of morbid prayer. "He had to protect Draco! He had to…oh my son… my son…"

Lucius turned his back on her; although Draco thought it was more to shielding her from Voldemort then to disown her.

Snape looked like death warmed over.

The Dark Lord ignored the women's outcry.

"My boy…" Voldemort reached out and ran a long fingered gray-white hand down the back of Draco's head. "You look confused." Malfoy shuttered uncontrollably. "Shh, shh, Draco, Lord Voldemort only wants to educate you…"

Malfoy stared at his father who looked furious; and shouldn't he be? His wife had disobeyed the Dark Lord and his son was revealed as a traitor. Whatever Lucius felt, however, was kept securely inside- Voldemort was speaking, and one never interrupted Lord Voldemort.

The absurdity of the neat little bookcase and the horrors within the room clashed so that the scene looked nearly fake.

"But…" Malfoy began, and everyone including the Dark Lord looked at him. "How did…" Draco faltered as he felt Voldemort's fingers lace through his hair. "How… how did you find out?"

The Dark Lord smiled. "Ah…Draco, that is a beauty all in its own… Blaise?" They all looked at where Voldemort's other arm was extended towards.

From behind one of the Deatheaters who moved out of the way, Blaise Zabini emerged in a long black robe- looking solidly dark. Only the blazing light from the torches illuminated the sharp lines on his face. He must been crouching down, awaiting his entrance.

Malfoy felt the bottom of his stomach fall away. Voldemort looked between the boys; Blaise was grinning wildly, his eyes large as saucers. He appeared a tad insane. "Ah, yes, Draco." Voldemort was speaking calmly through the silence in the room, still running a hand over and over Malfoy's silver crown. "Zabini knew you were loyal to the Mudblood and Potter…yes… He also knew that your mother had told you your father requested an answer to my proposal, for I told him that remarkable detail."

It revolted Draco how much Zabini looked like he was reveling in the praise. Although, it was a small comfort to him how Blaise's eager look faltered at the way Voldemort was feting over him, however disgusting the contact between his beautiful blonde hair and the clammy hands were.

"Zabini was my eyes and ears at Hogwarts, Draco. I knew, and I told no one. But now, now we know who has betrayed us…" His gaze looked from Snape to Malfoy's mother. A high-pitched laugh spilled from the man's lips. The candlelight seemed to flicker at the octave. "You have defied Lord Voldemort!"

But Draco, despite his fear at the present situation, burst through the mad man's diatribe with a sharp bark of noise; a cough. All eyes turned to him. Zabini's look darkened.

"You…" He started slowly, looking at Blaise intently. "What have you done with Goyle?"

At this point, Voldemort seemed to grow pensive, looking from one boy to the other with lustful malice. He was enjoying the exchange.

Smirking, Zabini folded his arms. "He's being taken care of, to be sure."

For a brief moment that meant to Draco that he was possibly alive. Insane and unfounded hope flared.

"What have you done to Pansy?"

At this, Blaise looked genuinely unconcerned. "She, like the rest of the Slytherin girls, could not understand the new order that the Dark Lord and I have placed upon the up and coming generation. The women of Slytherin are _weak_, and I treat them just like I would any other…"

Another revelation registered in the back of Malfoy's mind; why Blaise hated women... but the intensity of the present situation forced the thought deep into his brain for another time. Instead, Malfoy strained against his bindings, his head thrust forward.

He wanted to ruin Zabini, smother him. He ached for his hands to choke that slender dark neck more then anything.

This boy was the reason for him and Hermione's pain. This boy had been spying on him all year, to see if he really was carrying out the Dark Lord's plans. This boy was the reason that his mother and Snape, who miraculously had been trying to spare Draco, were found out.

Malfoy wanted blood.

He looked Zabini straight in the eyes, chin tilted up in the common Malfoy way. "You sold out your best friend…"

Suddenly, Blaise lurched forward and the Death Eater next to him had to hold him back. Narcissa made a noise as she crouches on the floor. "My best friend…" He screamed. "Died when he took up dealings with Mudbloods and that good for nothing dead old fool Dumbledore!"

Draco gazed up at the struggling Slytherin with wide, piteous eyes. A breath escaped his lips and he licked them absently.

Quietly, just above a whisper, voice rose within Malfoy's chest.

"My God, Blaise, they've murdered your humanity."

The struggling boy went slightly limp and stared dumbfounded, mouth open a few inches. Draco couldn't tell if Zabini was going to scream or cry; for he seemed ready to do both.

Instead, with an pained look on his face, the boy wrestled out of the Deatheaters grip, whirled around, and fled back up the dark staircase.

Malfoy watched the dark boy disappear as the gloom above enveloped him. Something satisfying about the way he twisted Blaise, the way he hurt him, exhilarated Draco. He felt pride and adrenaline surge through his veins and flood his brain until he was dizzy.

He could do it… kill the boy, murder, torture.

He was bred for it after all; it was the Malfoy way.

Draco could be everything his father wanted him to be…

Voldemort had released his grip on Draco's hair and Malfoy slumped forward slightly, unaware that the man had been holding his head up a fraction. The chains pulled taunt on his arms; painful.

He could be… everything…

A movement in front of his vision pulled Draco from his thoughts. As the world seemed to materialize in front of him he could again hear the sounds of his mother's sharp breaths, it was the only noise in the room.

Vaguely he could feel Voldemort circling him.

"Lord Voldemort knows what you are thinking, Draco."

Malfoy snorted, a small plume of soot mushrooming into the air.

"Lord Voldemort knows the struggle that goes on inside you, Draco. Should you accept your fate and die for your cause? Or will you come to the Deatheaters and join your father?"

Through heavy lidded eyes Malfoy looked up at Lucius. The man wasn't looking at him, but staring at Voldemort. Draco saw his father was nearly ridged, unmoving.

He hated the man… but he wanted to cry out to him. Wanted to have his father swoop down and protect him once, just once, like a little child.

But, Draco wasn't a little child, and his fate could not be changed because his father wished to save him. If his father still held any respect for him at all, wanted to save him at all.

"Draco, Lord Voldemort shall make the choice easy for you."

Malfoy pulled away sharply as Voldemort tried to tilt up his chin. The man smiled.

"You are not welcome among us; you are tainted with Potter and that Mudblood's touch. But nor shall we kill you just yet, for you hold valuable information."

Rasping, Malfoy's voice was a whisper. "Torture, then death?"

"That is the idea." The milk-white man replied.

Smirking, he let out a little laugh. "I'll never tell you anythi-"

"NO!" His mother wailed from the floor as she prostrated herself onto the stone. "No…" She wept bitterly. "No… no. Please, no!" The Deatheaters were staring at her, yet Lucius and Snape were looking at each other.

"Narcissa…" Voldemort began quietly as he stood opposite the women and her husband, on the right side of the room and Draco. "Narcissa, why should Lord Voldemort consider your words when you have betrayed him?"

The women wept harder.

"Stand up, Narcissa." He hissed quietly.

Draco watched, mortified, as he mother got weakly to her feet, shaking as she stood behind her husband. Voldemort smiled, his wand twirling round and round through his spindly fingers; as it had the whole time.

Voldemort paced back and forth between Draco and the other Deatheaters by the empty door-frame. He tapped his wand into his palm. Draco strained against his bindings but uttered no sound.

The tinny light rebounded off the walls in strange fractions.

"Severus Snape." Voldemort said finally, his wand pointed lazily at the man. Snape went still as he watched the wand tip, eventually meeting Voldemort's eyes. His face was set, determined, and carefully blank.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"You have disobeyed Lord Voldemort, why is this?"

Looking from Lucius to Narcissa, Snape spoke carefully. "She asked me to protect her son... and I did."

"Unbreakable vow?"

"Yes."

"Clever… clever…" Voldemort lowered his wand slowly. "I find your impotence and insubordination unacceptable and foolish on your part. However, you were able to murder that bumbling old headmaster…so you at least serve some purpose and have brought me glory."

Snape bowed sharply, his long nose dipping forward and his greasy hair sliding over his face. "Thank you, my Lord. You are gracious and kind."

Voldemort turned on the spot and looked directly at Narcissa, advancing a few steps, his wand out and pointing at her.

"You… you however are of no use to me."

Everything seemed to be happening so fast, Draco felt like the world was revolving at a ten fold speed.

"No!" He yelled.

"My Lord, please." His father reasoned.

"Step aside, Lucius."

"My Lord…"

"Lucius…!" Narcissa was wailing.

"Stop this!" Draco pleaded loudly.

"Step aside, Lucius!" Voldemort said again, harsher.

His mother was moaning into her hands.

"Do something!" Malfoy screamed at Snape who was staring at him with a blank expression.

His father looked frightened and rooted to the spot.

"No, please!"

"Stop this!"

"Father!"

"Lucius Malfoy!" Voldemort screamed at the top of his lungs, his wand hand quivering with calculated rage. "Step aside!"

All was silent.

For a moment, a split second, Lucius' gaze quivered and darted towards Draco, who was pulling so hard at his restraints that his shoulders were wrenched at an extremely odd angle. A peace flickered over the man's face and Malfoy felt a stab in his heart as the gaze turned oddly cold.

It was if, with that look, his father was condemning him of murder.

"Yes, my Lord."

Slowly, Lucius Malfoy stepped away from his wife and to the wall of the bookcase. He exchanged a glance with Snape then stared hard at the ground, his jaw clenching and releasing, clenching and releasing.

"No! Lucius… please… my Lord… please, no. Please. Don't. No… Lucius!"

"You were stupid, Narcissa. You had to understand, Lord Voldemort knows all." He raised his wand at the women's. "Avada Kadavara!"

In the blinding flash of green, Draco saw his father's face illuminated- the man's eyes were closed. Draco let out a sharp scream that stuck in his throat and slowly faded into a bitter moan.

Narcissa fell sideways onto the stone, her shoulder connecting with the hard surface and her head falling flat onto the ground. She lay, dead, her face white, blank, and staring towards the center of the room, towards Draco. Her mouth was still open from the pleading, her eyes still wide with fear.

Draco couldn't breath. He was dying. He was becoming nothing. Blood wasn't flowing. His heart wasn't beating. All was dead silent. Dead, dead. Dead.

His mother's pallid face filled Draco's vision as he stared at its beautiful porcelain features.

From the far reaches of his mind he heard a cackling as Voldemort drew near to him, whispered in his ear.

"And the best part, my sweet, sweet boy…" A cold hand ran over Malfoy's shoulder as the Dark Lord spoke. "I can touch you…. do you know what that means?"

Malfoy was staring into his mother's dead blue eyes, blue and stagnant like filthy water. He didn't answer, wasn't even registering the questions. He could her laughter in the cold man's voice.

"I can touch you… unlike Harry Potter, your mother did not die saving_ you_… she did not give her life, for _you_. She tried to save herself. Selfish, is it not Draco? Now, you see, you have no protection against my immense power..."

The room dissolved as grief swept through Malfoy's body, the other occupants of the library seeming to disappear.

Terror mingled with the hurt as Draco felt pressure on the right side of his head.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Voldemort was pushing Draco's shinning head down, down to the edge of the hearth with his cold fingers. Draco didn't even flinch when his ear, then the whole side of his head, was pressed against the painfully cold stone.

Voldemort had pushed him down so he was merely six feet away from his dead mother; their faces looking squarely at each other.

Tears were pooling around Malfoy's face as the pressure of Voldemort's hand was lifted, although, Draco had no strength to lift himself up again.

The world was lurching as the man laughed again, the Deatheaters escorting a stunned Lucius Malfoy out of the room.

"Come, Severus." Voldemort walked past Snape to stand in the doorway. "We have much to discuss."

The old Potion's Master was staring at Malfoy and with one last glance at the boy, he followed the Dark Lord up the library's staircase.

Draco was left alone then, with the body of his mother, in the fading light.

And he felt so terribly cold.

* * *

A/N- Sorry for the lateness, I hope it being 11 pages long makes up for it (yet again). 

Will start chapter 14 tomorrow.

OH! Some people e-mailed me about the status of the chapter this week while I was working on it. I don't mind the pestering (it helps me go faster) but I do have 'news' and 'status' sections on my profile here which I update multiple times a week with current chapter-by-chapter information. That way, you can see where I am and when the upload will be without sending a PM!

Anyway.

Please review, it helps- even constructive critisizm! Review!


	14. Powder

A/n- Thanks to those who _did_ review: **OBLuvr13**, _ThePrincessWolf_, **Natural-181,**_ Syranda,_** Lildaani, **_Dwindlingcandle**, Bundibird**_, and _Vivi Highwind._

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything like that. It's all J.K's.

Summary: Did you really think I was going to let Voldemort kill him? AND, only 5 more chapters after this one!!!

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate**

* * *

When she moved, he moved with her; her hair as soft as silk and her body as smooth as fresh snow.

She was bare skinned, as Draco had seen her only once when he sneaked up to the girl's dorms a few months ago.

He touched the inside of her thigh and felt himself unable to breath with the weight of her lips upon him.

She was laughing, a soft mellow sound into his chest. He felt the vibrations of her throat in his heart, and his lungs opened for a warm breeze of air.

When he touched her, his arms ached; his shoulders feeling heavy- his ear felt cold. Draco brushed away the sensation as he took the small girl into his arms and watched her slow blinking eyes.

A lurch in his stomach, not unlike Portkey travel, seemed to throw him.

Her gaze was blue as crystal, and it looked as if he was staring into an effeminate mirror.

Blue and dead.

Malfoy moved his lips to speak, but ice cold water only poured from his mouth and down his front. His lungs constricted with the icy chill. The girl before him said nothing, but he noticed now how blonde her eyelashes were.

Reaching out to cup her cheeks, she was freezing.

Her skin was white, not warm.

With a lurch he realized she was dead; and not at all the woman he loved.

"Malfoy?"

Someone was killing him, he knew, someone was tearing him apart from the inside.

"Malfoy!"

He wanted them to let him be, let him die.

Draco was writhing now, but he felt himself being muffled.

"Malfoy; shut it! You'll get us killed! Malfoy!"

Someone pushed him and Draco lurched forward, his eyes snapping open. He was looking into a vacant expression and it frightened him.

He screamed at the sight of his dead mother's face, but something covered his mouth.

Draco bit down hard and blood gushed over her tongue.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy! Christ!"

Someone was holding his shoulders off the ground. At the familiar voice, Draco went limp in their arms. The blood was still on his lips, dribbling down his chin.

"Be quiet, alright?"

Draco nodded and Goyle removed his hand from around Draco's mouth. He had been quieting the boy's inner struggle. Teeth marks were indented and had broken the skin. The boy's hand was bleeding.

Malfoy tried to speak and felt the blood slosh down his throat. He choked and fell forward, suspended by his bound hands.

He was breathing heavily, squinting his eyes at the form of his mother in the darkness, haloed by the blue light emitting from the wand Goyle was holding.

They waited; it seemed like eternity. After a minute or two of complete silence, they were reassured that Draco's noise had gone unnoticed by those upstairs.

Malfoy could hear Goyle's short breaths of adrenaline. He could hear his own heartbeat. Turning away from the body of his mother, he looked at the boy.

"What are you doing here?"

Goyle grinned and twirled his wand round in his hand. Reaching into his school robes he pulled out a second object. It was Draco's Hawthorn wand.

"Funny story, that." He said matter-of-factly.

Malfoy noticed how thin the boy looked in the dark; his robes dirty and muddled. He must have been down in some dungeon for months by the look of it.

Goyle raised an eyebrow. "What did they tell you?"

"You were on Holiday, got sick. Something like that, I can't remember."

The boy moved around to Draco's hands, tapping his wand against Malfoy's wrists. The metal started to melt away.

"Doesn't surprise me they made up some kind of story."

Draco sat up straighter as the tension in his shoulders was eased. "What happened?"

"Well…I did what you asked, Malfoy. I tried to get any information. They caught me listening in on one of the Death Eater's reports. They tried to Crucio me but my father stepped in, said I was a coward and was trying to escape the Mansion. Saved my life, he did. Instead of killing me they locked me down under the house. Did you _know_ you had _dungeons_ below your sitting room?"

Malfoy nodded mutely as the rung he was tied to broke and splintered into metal fragments. He slumped forward onto the floor.

Goyle lay Malfoy's wand beside him, but he didn't notice. Instead, he scrambled up to Narcissa. He skidded to a stop in front of her.

Hands out, Draco's feather light touch brushed his mother's shoulder, her hair.

Silently Goyle looked on.

Malfoy turned his mother onto her back, lay her hands across her chest, closed her eyes. He reached up and covered his mouth with his palm and looked away.

She was cold.

"She's dead?"

Malfoy nodded mutely.

"I'm sorry, mate."

Shaking his head, Draco picked up his wand. It was not the time to think of sadness. "How did you get this?"

Goyle's eyes went wide.

"That's the funny part. I just woke up this evening and the door to my room was cracked open. Both our wands were sitting there."

"Lumos." Draco murmured, and the already present light in the library was doubled by a second beam. He sighed, contemplating, his mind racing. "That's not good thing, Goyle."

Who would release Goyle?

Who would be that stupid?

Who would betray the Dark Lord?

The boy shrugged where he knelt on the stone. "I knew I had to come and find you. _Someone_ wanted you to get out, didn't they? _Your_ wand was there, wasn't it?"

Draco weighed his wand within the palm of his hand. It felt so good to have to have it back; he felt whole again.

"Malfoy?" Goyle got to his feet. "We have to get out of here."

Laughing piteously, Malfoy looked from his dead mother to the boy hovering over him. "We won't be able to, they'll kill us."

"But I've looked!" The boy wrung his hands and a lead weight seemed to drop into Malfoy's stomach. "We can make it out the back from the kitchens, travel along your orchard. They don't patrol those areas much."

Draco looked away. He didn't want to; he wanted to stay and sleep and just lie down for a while.

"I saw Pansy." Goyle whispered suddenly into the silence. Malfoy's head snapped up. "She's tiny, was hangen on Blaise's arm." This made Draco feel sick.

"But… aren't they all in school?"

"Ended early with Dumbledore dead. Nearly all the Slytherins are here now. What'd they do to Pansy? What's Blaise done?"

The blank face of Narsissa's scared look was burned into Draco's mind.

Zabini killed your mother! His brain screamed. He killed her when he ratted you out!

"Mate?"

"Let's go." Draco said suddenly, standing up. Wobbling, he thrust a hand out to the wall to steady himself. Goyle took a step forward but Malfoy held out an arm to stop him. "I'm fine, let's just go."

"But-"

"But what?!"

Goyle looked apprehensive. "I just; I don't know what's going on." Draco noted how the boy was cradling his hand, the blood having stopped dripping from it.

"I'm sorry." The blonde started. He motioned to his fellow Slytherin's hand. "And Zabini's taken control of our House. Now Pansy kneels at his feet and the other boy's treat him as if he's been born from Voldemort's right arm. He's delusional. He betrayed us." He watched understanding dawn over Goyle's face. "_Now_ can we get out of here?"

Draco waited for Goyle to lead him out but he soon realized that no one was moving. With a sick feeling, Malfoy remembered that they were in _his_ house; Goyle expected Draco to know more about the Manor then he did.

"Right. Follow me. Nox."

"Nox."

The lights were snuffed out as they moved to the Library doorway.

Draco never looked back at his mother's body.

.o.o.o.o.

The hallway to the kitchen was long and narrow, the walls on either side jutting up to the level above.

Both the boy's pressed their bodies against the dark side of the wallpapered surface so that, from above, they couldn't be seen.

Twice they had to step around the columns of blood orange light that spilled in through the high hallway windows.

It was dusk, and the sun was setting over the orchard trees.

Voices could be heard upstairs and once Goyle nearly sent a jet of red sparks from his wand when a loud screech from above them issued suddenly.

Draco yanked the boy's wand from him.

"Shh, it's only the birds."

A bone-white peacock drifted in front of the window on its accent to the roof.

"You've got strange taste, Malfoy." The boy whispered.

Draco was glad it was dark, for his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

They moved further down the hallway.

"Where are the maids?" Draco whispered as they passed the downstairs washroom and found it empty.

"Used for killing practice."

Malfoy choked on his own air.

"_What?_"

Goyle made a small noise. "Mostly they're down in the rooms below the house, but sometimes they kill 'em for fun."

"That's disgusting."

Goyle shrugged. "They aren't wizards or witches, are they?"

Deep down, Draco remembered that Goyle was still Slytherin, still sympathetic to the Dark Lord.

It was then that he realized this could all be a setup.

"Goyle…"

"No." The boy said as he shook his head. "I wouldn't lock myself in your house for my own amusement. I'd rather do Potion's homework."

Draco grinned.

"You're a good friend."

The boy snorted as they paused under a large portrait of Draco's mother.

"What about Crabbe?"

"Zabini's right hand man, apparently." Malfoy answered.

"And Pansy's his play thing?" Silence. "Well, we all knew Blaise had a bit of an ego problem."

They went still when the pounding of feet could be heard down the staircase.

Someone- no- a group of someone's were coming downstairs.

"Here, quick."

The pair pushed open the kitchen's swinging door and scurried inside, laying against the floor, under the center island.

"Malfoy?" Goyle said quietly.

"What?" Draco responded as he slid across the stone towards the door.

"I'm going back."

Malfoy turned around. In the peach light filtering through the tall windows, a shaft of fell across Goyle's face. He looked scared, frightened, yet, determined and set.

It was as if the stupid sluggish weight had melted off him; he looked worlds older.

"Why?"

"Pansy. I need to get Pansy. She doesn't deserve this. You know that."

A pang in Draco's heart felt like he was loosing a kinship. He knew it would be nearly impossible for Goyle to make it back in and then out again alive.

"I'll see you, then." Malfoy said stiffly, his chin tilted up a fraction. Goyle grinned and scooted backwards.

"Don't wait up."

"I won't."

"Give Potter a good thrashing for me, eh?"

"I will."

The door to the kitchen opened again.

"See you."

"Good luck."

The door swung closed again.

Malfoy swollowed hard looked at the deserted kitchen. He took another quick breath and stood; a hand on the counter top.

Freedom was so close, wasn't it?

All he had to do was walk not ten paces, skirt the small servant's table, open the French doors, and step out onto the veranda.

His Hawthorn wand shuttered.

Sprinting to the back door, he touched the silver door handle. It was icy. Praying no wards had been put against it; he clicked the lock open and swung the door backwards. It didn't creak, no alarm was sounded.

How ignorant his father's people were.

Looking out at the dead orchard, he noted how the forest had encroached upon the ground. He could make it into the dense woods; he could escape from his own house. He knew a path; it went deep into the dense thick.

Draco closed the kitchen's back door behind him, stepped along the creaking wood porch, and then down the steps onto the dead lawn.

The rosebushes, his mother's rosebushes, were dead in their boxes next to the gravel path. Taking a deep breath, Draco could smell the natural rot. Overhead, the moon shone through the darkening mist of sunset.

Around him, insects buzzed and the onset of summer, with its warm night winds, buffeted his white blonde hair, caressed his bare arms.

It was dangerous to cross such open land, but, Draco had no other way to pass to the orchard's edge. He ran to the trees and crouched down among the brush. There, he waited out the time in which it would take, if anyone had seen him, to raise alarm.

Nothing happened.

In the gloom, he pressed his belly against the hard earth and slowly crawled over the weeds. Past the forth or so twisted tree, he caught a glimpse of the weathered path he had marked out as a child, the one who's exit was far across the rolling hills behind the manor.

Briefly, nostalgia gripped him in a wave of sickness, a feverish thing.

Draco remembered his mother coddling him; taking his hand along the orchard's rim. They use to pick apples, in the front orchard, pears in the back. Malfoy had no indication that _those _fruit trees were living or dead either.

His father never took him fruit picking. But, Draco remembered that long before, when he was still just a small child, that the maids would follow his mother and he out to the trees.

Before the mass hysteria of Voldemort and the like, Draco liked to believe that his mother had not been such a harsh and vile pure-blood fixated women. He wanted to believe that it had been his father that had robbed his mother of her youth, her vitality, and her strength.

Malfoy was to the tree line now. He pushed himself off the ground and started running.

He had only taken a few steps when a noise halted him in his tracks.

It was a scream; neither female nor male.

It froze the blood in Draco's heart.

It was a scream of rage.

Malfoy smirked, a malicious grin that bled hate. They must have found him missing. He had to hurry, Voldemort was most likely furious.

But then, another noise, a scream of fear.

Goyle.

He couldn't leave him, he had to go back.

Retracing his steps, Draco ran to the edge of the tree line. There, he paused, unsure of himself, wanting to run to the dying sound of his friend's voice, yet, he wanted to save himself also.

Throwing caution to the soft summer wind, Malfoy bolted forward.

"Avada Kedavra!" A cold voice screamed. "Avada Kedavra! Crucio! Avada Kedavra!"

Green light erupted from the windows on the lower level.

Malfoy, half way back to the veranda, froze.

Goyle was gone, he was gone, he was dead. He had to be.

"Bloody hell." He whispered, his wand out. He was shaking.

"Get him! Get him! I want him for myself! Find the boy! Find him!"

Malfoy turned on the spot and ran as fast as he could back to the trees. He was nearly to the first oak when a curse hit the tree in front of him. The bark splintered and the tree cracked as if it had been hit by lightning.

Ducking, Draco ran sideways. He tripped on a root and sprawled forward. His palms stung as he fell upon them. He got up only to fall again from overbalancing.

"Immobulus!"

Draco couldn't move.

"We found him!"

He was going to die

"Over here!"

He hadn't even made it into the safety of the forest.

There was a rushing sound and Draco knew he was surrounded.

"My Lord!" A woman yelled.

With a rushing sensation Draco was picked up off his feet and thrown. He hit a tree sideways and fell onto his stomach.

"My Lord, the boy is-"

"Enough!"

Draco shook his head to rid himself of the pounding within it. Above him, through the orchard trees, the moon shown like powdered milk.

He could hear Voldemort coming closer, a group of Deatheaters in his wake.

"Get up! Lord Voldemort commands it!"

Standing, Draco looked up into the face of the Dark Lord. Behind Voldemort, the men and women Deatheaters had created a semicircle.

Something gripped Draco and he was pushed back against the tree.

He couldn't breath.

His wand was ripped out of his hands. Wormtale was at the Dark Lord's side. The squat man snapped the Hawthorn shaft and tossed it onto the ground at the Dark Lord's feet.

Malfoy made a squeak of a moan.

Long white fingers encircled Draco's neck as the man's wand levitated him off the ground.

Malfoy was choking to death, his windpipe constricted. His hands clamored around his attacker's wrists, scrabbling for a way of release.

"How dare you defy Lord Voldemort!" The Dark Lord screamed at him. "I will kill you!"

Malfoy hiccoughed. The edges of his vision were blurry. His hands went slack.

Voldemort's grip tightened and Draco kicked out his legs, yet found no ground beneath him.

Fleetingly, Malfoy wished Hermione was there, holding him, rocking him back and forth. Back and forth.

"Malfoy… Malfoy, come back to Lord Voldemort."

Air rushed into his lungs.

"Ah, Draco. I had forgotten… for I must tell you before I kill you…"

He was choking again. He could see the group of Deatheaters around him.

"I never knew how deeply you had betrayed us."

Malfoy's eyes went wide as Voldemort lifted a clenched hand in front of his captives' watering eyes.

From between the slim white fingers something sparkled. As the fist uncurled, Malfoy saw his Slytherin ring resting neatly upon pearly white skin.

"Ah, yes, Draco. We found _this_."

A snake.

A snake with green eyes.

Perpetual cannibalism.

The Dark Lord leaned in so he was inches away from his prey. "So sad, Draco, that it has come to such a time where your life should be the forfeit for your idiocy."

With a rush of terror and adrenaline, Malfoy swung his arm up and cuffed the pale man around the cheek bone.

He had hit him.

He had _punched_ Lord Voldemort.

A few in the crowd gasped, uttered 'My Lord!'. Voldemort's head snapped to the side.

Slowly, the man's face turned back to his victims'.

Horror coursed through Malfoy.

He was dead.

Voldemort's face was livid. He was seething.

"Stupid boy!"

With the force of a good push, the hand was tightened around Draco's throat and the ring pressed forcibly onto his neck.

For a moment, Draco felt nothing. Then, as if iron had been poured down his side, his neck burned.

He could feel his skin bubbling white hot.

The ring was on fire, was burning him.

Voldemort was branding him with his own cast off symbol of Slytherin stupidity.

Draco tossed his head back against the tree, and with what air he had left in his lungs, screamed into the night. His hands pulled, scratched at Lord Voldemort's robes.

A few of the Deatheaters turned away as the boy's pitch grew higher, the ring pressed more firmly onto the skin.

Malfoy saw nothing, nothing but white and pain and death looming.

Straining, he kicked out and hit the man in the side.

Cursing, Malfoy was dropped to the ground, his head hitting the tree trunk.

Pain.

All around him…

A curse hit the tree above him as Draco scrambled to his feet.

"Don't stand there! Kill him!"

"Accio wand!" Draco choked.

"Kill him!" Voldemort yelled.

The broken Hawthorn shaft flew into his palm.

"Kill him!"

Someone was screaming.

"Crucio!"

He was running.

"Reducto!"

He was at the orchard.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The tree he had run past burst into shards and Draco was blown off his feet and onto the ground.

He had to get away.

Clutching his broken wand, the two parts held together by the sinew of its composition, an idea came to him.

But, he had never Dissaperated before…

He had been too young to take the test.

But he had to do _something_.

He was on the ground, couldn't stand to preform the spell.

Draco envisioned himself in his mind, turning on the spot.

_Destination..._

Think of a safe place, a safe place.

_Determination..._

Think of anywhere but here, anywhere but here.

_Deliberation..._

A broken wand…

"Sectumsempra!"

With a crack Draco Dissaperated as the last hex hit him in his side.

* * *

a/n- WOW I am so so so so soooo sorry about the lack of updates.

I have no excuse to give, other then the first week of school being a bitch, my car bring wrecked (not really, but it feels like it), and me being really lazy.

I am so sorry! I'll try and update more regularly, but because of school it might have to go to a two week update thing. I hope not.

Anyway, please review!


	15. High

A/n- Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed (you guys make this worth while): **Natural-181, **_Bundibird_ , **heart5**, _Samantha_, **Syranda**, _OBLuvr13_, **Lildaani,**_Dwindlingcandle,_** ThePrincessWolf**_, UltimateAuror,_ and **Kitematsu.**

Disclaimer: Why do I still do these?

Summary: Well, it should be obvious… no?

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate**

* * *

The faucet in the back room was still dripping. It had been doing so for what Mad Eye thought must have been nearly three months now.

"I don't understand you Tom." The man growled, his magical eye whizzing into the back of his head as he stared through the wall at the leaky water tap. "That thing in there is driving me mad." He brought the large mug he was nursing up to his lips.

The hunched innkeeper laughed, wheezed, as he snuffed the last torch on the Pub's high walls with a flick of his finger, looked over the swept floor, and retreated into the private back room where Moody was taking his drink.

The door closed until only a fraction of the dark beyond was noticeable.

"Don't ever get around to it I suppose." He said, scratching his chin as he sat down with his own warm stein.

The solitary oil lamp on the small round table flickered.

As it was customary on Mad Eye Moody's nearly _nightly_ vigils, the man brought out his slightly yellowing stack of Exploding Snap.

The Innkeeper's wheezing laugh caused Moody to pause mid-shuffle and look up, his magical eye still fixated on the dripping sound.

"You are once again too eager to loose what little money you have, Mad Eye."

Gruffly, the man replied. "I am reimbursed by the free alcohol."

Tom grinned, yet, his face faltered. Leaning in, he placed a hand on the cards Moody was dolling out.

"What news, Mad Eye? I always need to ask, you are never forthcoming."

"How do I know you haven't been cursed?"

Tom shook his head wearily as the floorboards above them creaked as patrons moved about their bedrooms. He man opened his mouth to speak when a loud whip-like sound reverberated from within the Inn's main room; followed almost instantaneous by the loud crashing clatter of a table and a chairs being upended.

"Merlin!" Tom yelped. Mad Eye bolted from his chair and hobbled into the darkness, Tom right behind. With another flick of the Innkeeper's hand, the lights blazed brightly. "Oh my god…"

As Moody hobbled to the other side of the room, where a table lay on its side, the chairs once stacked upon it now on the floor, Tom rushed after.

Laying on the floor, his legs entangled strangely with the legs of one of the four chairs, Draco was bleeding all over the stone floor. A puddle of blood was splattered onto the ground, upon his cheek. Moody bent down to him, his cane tucked under his arm.

"What happened!?"

Moody's magical eye whizzed over the boy's body. He narrowed his eyes as he touched the blonde's pale forehead.

"Looks like he Apparated in mid air, just above this table. Must have fallen on it, slid off and upended it." The man touched the sideways tabletop where a streak of blood both wider and longer then his palm glittered in the dim light. "He's bleeding from the side; no doubt a curse."

He could see that Malfoy was breathing, barely, but he was certainly out cold.

"Who is it? Should I call for a healer?"

"No!" Mad Eye said harshly as he bent down to pick the boy up rather awkwardly. A fresh splatter of blood sloshed down his front as he hoisted Malfoy into his arms. There was a deep cut, a slash, from Draco's left hip to the upper side of his ribcage. The boy hung limply, his head swinging back and froth. "You need to clean this mess up, Tom."

The hunchbacked man got a glimpse of the figure's pearly white-blonde hair and covered his mouth with a knarled hand. He nodded slowly, his eyes wide.

The boy in Mad Eye's arms twitched.

"I'll contact you later."

"Good luck."

Just before the Leaky Cauldron disappeared, Draco Malfoy's eyes snapped open.

With another loud crack the front entry way to Number 12 Grimmauld Place suddenly appeared.

And just as suddenly, there was the pain.

Malfoy screamed, writhed within the arms of whoever was holding him down, clamping him to their chest. From somewhere ahead of him, although Malfoy had screwed his eyes shut and couldn't see, someone dropped something and it crashed upon the floor.

He was still creaming, brought his hands up to cover his face and found them wet. Cracking his eyes open, seeing his own blood staining his palms, feeling tears running down his face, he lashed out.

Moody, trying to stumble along the corridor without his walking stick, yelling for help, was unable to hold the boy. The man's knees buckled and Malfoy was dropped.

Before he could hit the floor, a women yelled something, and he was suspended inches from the hardwood floors. The sharp halt made his head fling back. He could see his own blood dripping onto the floor.

"Molly, I couldn't hold him. Get Remus! Where's Kingsley?"

"Mad Eye?"

Another man's voice.

"Arthur! Wake Remus!"

"Oh my god."

Hands were all around him, hoisting him up.

"Move him to the couch, we can't get him upstairs in this state. Where's Minerva?"

Too many people… Draco couldn't count the voices through his own screaming. Someone set him down gently on a spongy surface. His head lulled back as his hands flew to the wound. Someone's strong grip held him away from the blood.

"What's happening?"

"What's going on?"

"Harry, dear, go back upstairs! Ron! Go!"

Draco groaned as a spell hit his side and soothed it- minimally.

"D-Draco?"

Malfoy couldn't breath; someone other then him was screaming. A high voice, crying.

"Draco." Someone was saying very calmly into his ear above all the commotion and racket. "Draco, look at me." Malfoy's eyes snapped open. He was staring into a soft gaze. "You've got to lie still…" The man's words were interrupted by what sounded like Molly Weasley dragging someone away and into the kitchens.

"Lup-" Malfoy started.

"Shh." His old Professor said softly. A burning pain erupted in his side. "Lie still, Draco." Malfoy clenched his fist in this man's own hand. "It's going to be all right, you're with us now."

Draco's head lulled back.

"Hermione." He choked out.

The world went black.

What felt like seconds later he was rushing up to meet reality. Malfoy could feel his arms, his legs, could move, but his brain- his mind- felt so far away. Strangely, as he gained consciousness, it felt as if his soul was rushing up to meet his body; as if he was rising to the surface of glassy water.

He wasn't on the couch, he was on a bed.

Coughing, he tried to move, yet he felt as if he was suffocating. That cold, crisp, clear water he had be rising through was drowning him.

Draco's chest heaved.

"It's bleeding again!"

"Hurry!"

Blackness.

The second time he woke, it was light outside, yet the heavy draperies were drawn tightly shut so that the only light that issued from it was a small sliver upon the heavy carpeted ground.

Malfoy was able to tilt his head up. For a moment a thrill of horror ran through him as he noticed a large stain of red on the bed sheets. After a frantic moment, he realized that his bandages were clean and that the blood was from before.

Someone moved in the room.

"Draco, dear?"

"I'm burning."

"It's just the aftereffects of the spells." The figure moved to where Draco could see them and was pleasantly relieved to see Molly Weasley standing over him. She murmured a soft spell and what felt like a cold washcloth was pressed onto his forehead. "Drink." She whispered, pressing a glass to his mouth.

Unsure, Draco took a sip. Again, he was relieved. Only water. He gulped it down greedily. The cold liquid ran from his lips and down to his neck.

"I'm tired." He admitted.

"Go to sleep."

"Where's Hermione?"

"Go to sleep."

Malfoy was reliving the final moments at his family's Manor; the large moon above the orchards waxy and glowing.

"Sectumsempra!"

With a crack the ground beneath Draco vanished. Instantaneously he was looming over a large, flat, dark surface.

The after effects of the spell left him hovering for a split second in the air.

"Uh-" He managed to moan before he plummeted towards the ground.

With a sharp smack his head came into contact with the table's edge, his arms crumpling underneath him. The table, unbalanced, tipped over, the chairs that had been slid neatly underneath falling with it.

Malfoy's chest slid sideways off as the stand fell on top of him. Draco's head cracked against the stone, knocking him out.

The final time Draco awoke there were more people in the room, he couldn't see them all yet, but he could sense them, hear them. His head was pounding. Everything felt loud

Malfoy widened his gray eyes, trying to soak in the minimal light that shadowed the crevasses and edges of the room.

In the corners Arthur, Shacklebolt, and Moody stood. Lupin was taking in a hushed, hurried voice to Molly at his bedside.

"I don't want to wake him."

"Molly, please, be reasonable." Lupin soothed. "We need to know what happened."

"**He** needs to **rest**."

The man, a hand on her shoulder, looked slightly put off.

"I-" As Malfoy spoke, everyone looked at him, seemingly unaware before that he had been slowly coming to. "Water." There was a moment where silence pervaded the small room. Molly Weasley suddenly knelt down to him.

"Draco, dear. You all right? Water? You feel all right?"

A glass was tipped towards his lips before he could answer. Malfoy gulped it greedily.

"What happened?" He croaked. "I mean- I remember Professor Lupin-"

Mrs. Weasley smoothed his hair gently. "You're safe. We brought Poppy and a few others to help. You're wound is healing."

Draco's hands were shaking, he was gripping the sheets.

Malfoy blurted, "I didn't- I didn't kill him!" as a fear that had mulled itself within him bubbled to the surface. Molly Wesley's brow creased, her lips parted in question.

The door to the room suddenly swung open and Moody had to jump aside as it banged against the frame.

"I heard voices, is he- Draco! Oh my god!" Hermione was standing in the doorway with her hands covering her mouth. She was shaking.

From behind her Ginny and Tonks peered.

Malfoy smirked, tried to put on a brave face. As he moved, sat up, he hissed in pain from the tight bandages around his middle.

"No! Don't move!" She squeaked. Slowly, painstakingly so, she tiptoed to the bed. Mrs. Weasley moved out of the way. Laying a hand upon his, Draco could feel her warm skin against his ashen cold palm. He closed his fingers around hers. "How- how are you?" Hermione breathed softly.

"All right." He drawled, chin tilted up in a defiant way. "All right. Couldn't kill me, could they? No, suppose not, the cowards." But then he noticed the tears leaking out from between Hermione's white knuckles. "Ah- I was only joking… I wasn't going to…"

Ignoring him, Hermione bent to wrap her arms around his neck. Malfoy wanted to embrace her but his arms felt so heavy.

"I wasn't going to die." He repeated. Over Hermione's shoulder, Draco saw Lupin look away.

Had he been that close to death? He didn't remember.

The screaming; not his own. Hermione being dragged away from his prone form on the couch as the adults flitted around him.

His chest heaved with a painful breath.

Hermione sobbed into his bare chest; tears dripping down his collarbone.

"We- we thought you we're dead! That they got you and killed you! That I'd never see you again!" She cried piteously. Trying to soothe her, Malfoy ran a weak hand through her hair.

With glazed eyes, a silvery gaze of dark storm, Draco turned his attention to each person in the room in turn. All of the adults except Molly looked a tad uncomfortable.

Moody's large blue eyeball rolled back into his head.

Malfoy breathed in Hermione's smell; her hair. He closed his eyes. A knock on the door turned Draco's gaze. Hermione continued crying.

From the doorway a lanky shape of muddled darkness seemed to lean. Tentative.

"How is he?" Harry whispered, looking in. When looked at Draco, there was immeasurable pity held in his gaze. Malfoy didn't know weather to be grateful or spiteful. He didn't need the Wonder Boy's feelings.

"_Yeah_." Another voice issued. "How is the Ferret'y git? Ouch, Ginny!"

"Shut **up** Ron!"

"All right, all right!" Mrs. Weasley threw her hands up in the air. "That's quite enough! All of you…" She pointed at the adults as well as her children- especially Lupin. "Out, out, out!"

"Wait!" Draco strained to sit upwards, his hand out as if he wanted to pull everyone back into the room. Hermione was startled out of her crying by his hard voice. "Wait, Potter!"

The room suddenly felt very hot; confined. The walls were closing in again.

His screaming from atop the Astronomy Tower, his screaming - sound was never heard. It was rising within Draco like bile.

"I didn't kill him. I didn't kill Dumbledore."

There, he had said it. Blood pumped rhythmically in his ears. He could feel his heart beat irregularly as the sound from Hermione's own chest reverberated in his.

Pain. He was watching the boy's pain.

Harry's expression withered from hard resoluteness into something akin to fatigue.

"I know."

"But-"

"I was there."

And Harry explained the cloak and the Horcruxes and the freezing charm.

Malfoy had started to choke on the lump rising in his throat. "I was considering." He said through hicoughes. "To just lay there, die, rather then come back a traitor."

"Lay there…" Someone in the room echoed; Draco didn't know who.

Mad Eye, his magical gaze swiveling into the side of his head, looked at Ginny and Tonks rather disapprovingly. They leaned into the room at Malfoy's words; as if this might spark a story. As if it was some kind of spectacle.

Harry moved away from the others and came around to the opposite side of where Hermione was prostrated.

"Malfoy, I knew. From the moment I saw the wand shake, I knew. You're not a killer."

Laughter bubbled up from within Draco's chest, spilled into the room. It wasn't his laughter, it was his father's. Draco hated, amidst the cackling, how he sounded so much like Lucius. He wanted to cut it out of him. Wanted to drain his father's blood from his veins.

The thought of him not a killer.

Draco's mouth stretched wide as he begun to weep from laughing.

"…Draco?" Hermione whispered. "Your scaring me."

"Oh!" Draco laughed. "It's just- not a killer?" More laughter. "Could have fooled me. Got two people killed, didn't I? Three if you count Dumbledore!" He couldn't stop laughing, his father's laughing, and he was killing himself inside over and over again.

His hands clutched his head.

"Draco, who's died?"

The laughter was fading. Hermione was prying his fingers away from his golden scalp.

"Draco, who's dead?"

The room tilted.

His mother's dead eyes.

"I-" Draco couldn't finish the sentence.

I _what_?

I watched my mother fall dead?

I had a chance to save a fellow Slytherin but failed?

Oh Pansy; he'd nearly forgotten about her. Had Blaise finally killed her? Had she ended it herself?

Why was this war happening? Why was the death so… so prevalent?

Molly Weasley, at the look of catatonic shock plastering Draco's face, began to usher everyone out of the tiny bedroom with a little more force and resilience.

"He needs to rest; I've said it before! We're just overwhelming him. I'll bring up some soup and chocolate." The women physically pushed Shacklebolt through the door frame.

"No." Malfoy uttered under his breath. Hermione held his hand. "I want to tell you all. Don't leave me."

Weak... so weak. His inner Lucius Malfoy was silently scolding him. You sound so weak.

Had the fall and the hex addled his brains? Escaping the Manor one moment and cowering in your bed the next. Had the adrenaline sustained him _that_ much? Was this the crash of some horrible high?

"Malfoy." Harry pulled a chair out from under the beside desk. He perched himself upon its edge. His hands, clasped, supported his chin, elbows on his knees. Leaning in, he regarded Malfoy attentively.

It was like he cared. It was like Potter actually cared.

Like they all did... _Oh_.

"Malfoy." He repeated. "Tell us then."

Draco glanced at Hermione.

"I love you."

She sniffed. "I love you too, Draco."

Malfoy heaved a large sigh.

"All right…"

* * *

A/N- So, I had college essays due- that's why I didn't get this done in time. I will still start the next chapter on Friday per-usual.

The next one will be WAY longer in comparison to this puny/under-developed one.

lol- I just hated this chapter. I always new it was going to be fuzzy and malformed (this as a way to try and have you guys feel as if you're seeing/feeling what Draco sees/feels). I hope it comes across like that and not like I wrote weirdly on accident.

Thanks for reading so far!

Please review!


	16. Branches

A/n- Thanks to those who have reviewed: **Lildaani**, _Syranda_, **The Princess Wolf**, _Kitematsu_, **Dwindlingcandle**, _Natural-181_, **magic2007**

Disclaimer: Don't own!!!

Summary: Oh?

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate**

* * *

"Would you like Tomato or Chicken?"

Draco leaned casually against the kitchen's open door frame , his arms crossed very loosely over his chest. He winced at the pain but held his composure.

"I am tired of soup."

Hermione looked over her shoulder from where she was bent over the sink. She threw him a reproachful look.

"It's good for you; helps you heal."

Flipping his hair out of his face- Draco was in desperate need of yet another trim- Malfoy tilted his chin up. "Only because it masks the taste of that god awful medicine." Hermione looked at him expectantly. "Tomato." He said finally, moving at a slightly awkward gait to the table. He pulled out the chair slowly.

_It had been nearly a week…_

"I don't know what to say." Ginny had murmured when Malfoy had finished his story, five days previous. When they had crowded into his tiny bedroom.

They had watched, enraptured by the way he explained the Dark Lord's brutality, Snape's betrayal- to which Lupin stormed out of the room cursing, and to his mother's death.

Draco had kept his gaze to the ceiling; the white and gray blotchy-ness overhead, so he wouldn't have to see their faces.

Ginny moved uncomfortably beside Tonks where they sat on the floor. "And Blaise?" She whispered. Draco looked at her for a quiet moment. Vaguely he recalled the conversation he had had with Zabini so many eons ago. Had he not described the Weasley girl as pretty?

"I don't know." He said finally. "The last I saw him was in the study…"

Mr. Weasley knelt down by Draco's bed. The sight of the man on his knees disturbed the Slytherin. Draco looked away.

"Is there anything more, my boy?" The man looked stern.

Was there?

The Tower, the Malfoy library, Goyle, the escape, the hex.

"No." Malfoy whispered. If there was, Draco didn't know it. Everything past Goyle's yells were a blur. He only remembered the pain, the moon, the shadows of the trees on the dead grass. "No." He said again.

There was a pervading silence that settled on the ring of people. Harry leaned back in his chair, his hands clenched into fists upon his knees. He and Ron exchanged glances. Malfoy watched them out of the corner of his eye. If Potter was distressed, he did not show it.

Hermione, at Draco's feet, had closed her eyes rather tightly.

"Mrs. Weasley?" Harry said in a small but determined voice. "I think we should leave Malfoy to his rest."

The women looked startled. "Oh, right Harry. Come on then, everyone, we'll have some tea while we discuss this… are the other's coming Kingsley?" The large man in the back of the room nodded. "All right then…" She ushered Ginny, Tonks, and the twins out.

Ron left without a word, without a backwards glance. Hermione looked on after him. Harry knelt down towards Malfoy.

"We are all glad you cam back all in one piece. You've got a fair amount of information for us as well. Try and get some rest."

Draco nodded, searching the other boy's face; his warm green eyes and pleasant smile. "Thanks Potter." The door to the room clicked shut softly.

Repositioning himself against the pillows, Draco regarded Hermione with severe interest. She was watching her hands, fiddling with the bedsheeting. He wanted to hold her, but then, it was so painful to move. Voice struggled up from his throat.

"What time is it?"

"Nearly sunset by now I'm sure." Was all she said.

"Hermione-" Draco began.

"I was so scared." The girl cut him off, her hands no longer moving but gripping the cloth. "I woke up and you were gone." Draco relaxed, his head falling back farther into the pillow. Hermione took a breath. "I saw you, being dragged out of the castle."

And Malfoy remembered. "You called out my name." She nodded. "I tried to…" He was going to say 'get away', but he had been to weak to claw himself from Snape and the other man's grasp. "I didn't want to leave you, I'm sorry."

She wouldn't look at him. "I'm scared, still, now." Draco laughed; a harsh noise. Hermione stared at him with wide, tearful eyes. "Don't-"

"I just…" Draco backpedaled. "I am too. We all are. Hell, Potter's probably scared…"

"I through you were dead."

"So did I; a couple of times actually."

A small smile, bittersweet, formed on Hermione's lips. "Did you think of me?"

Draco's pale eyes widened. "Don't I always?" He paused. "Will you open the window? I can't-" Fumbling for the words. "It's too dark."

Hermione stood up and took a few paces to the thick curtain. Reaching up, she pulled the hangings back fully. Liquid orange and red spilled into the room, broad beams of light hitting Draco's bed. He twisted his head away; eyes closed.

From the darkness behind his eyelids, Draco could hear the cracking of dust caked paint as the rippled glass window was thrown open. A rush of cold air filled the room instantly.

Draco blinked. The light warmed his skin. He looked white, dead, pale.

"Is that better?" Hermione came back to his side. Malfoy nodded. Hermione gave Draco another sip of water, then propped herself up on the mattress next to him. "You look better then when you first got here."

Draco grinned, his chin tilted upwards. "How was that?"

"In pain."

"Oh, well, hmm."

Hermione smiled softly, embarrassed. "I was screaming."

"Heard that too."

"Mrs. Weasley dropped a pitcher of iced-tea."

"Mmm."

"She dragged me away from you." Her voice was suddenly sad. Malfoy took her face in his hands, although it was painful to twist his arms so.

His whole body ached, yet it was his side- a wound still healing- that burned when he moved. "I'm here now. That's all that matters." He trailed two fingers up and down from Hermione's ear to her chin. She shivered. "Kiss me."

Hermione leaned into him and brushed her lips against his. Draco watched her soft eyes flutter closed, then open again. Her breath was warm against his chest. He watched her lips. Malfoy dipped down fractionally and caught her mouth with his again. She pressed against his chest; pressed awkwardly against his wound; Draco didn't care. He ignored the dull burn.

He could feel her heartbeat.

Threading his hand through her hair, he pulled her closer.

The arm around her middle moved forward. Malfoy's hand flitted across the sliver of skin between her muggle jeans and the pink sweater she was wearing. His hand went slowly upwards.

_Hermione gasped against his mouth…_

"Draco?"

Malfoy looked up from the Kitchen table.

Hermione was setting a steaming bowl of soup with a spoon resting in it in front of him. Looking back over his shoulder, Draco saw an uncorked bottle of … something… on the kitchen counter. Hermione shifted so his view was obstructed. Her laugh did nothing to rouse Malfoy appetite.

"Eat." She whispered into his hair, ruffling it a bit, burying her head into the right side of his neck.

Malfoy groaned, picking up the spoon.

"I will forever hate soup. I won't ever make it again."

"Since when have you ever made soup?" Hermione grinned, sitting across from him.

He glared at her, sticking the spoonful in his mouth. "Urk-" His eyes went wide.

"Swallow it!" Hermione commanded.

Malfoy's glare was as fiery and cutting as ever; yet Hermione ignored it, having gotten use to the Slytherin's mock hateful looks. Draco swallowed and quickly threw back a chaser of milk.

"What _is_ that!?" He grimaced, tilting his head back.

"I'm not allowed to say."

Malfoy picked up another spoonful. He was never going to get use to the taste. Ever.

Moments ticked by.

"So…" Draco started innocently, the fourth spoonful up to his lips. It was Hermione's turn to eye him suspiciously.

It always started like this.

"What's on the agenda for today?" Malfoy asked innocently.

"Nothing." Would be her reply; would always be her reply.

Exasperated, Draco open his palms against the table. "It's been days; I feel fine! I want to…"

Malfoy stopped.

_There was a warning light going off in the back of his mind…_

A few days ago, it had been not a full twenty four hours after he had been bedridden that Draco had already felt restless.

He had tried, after nixing Mad Eye's walk cane that night, to hobble down the stairs to the door behind which the Order- now consisting of the Twins, the Weasel, Hermione, and Potter- were whispering quietly.

It was only Ginny who had discovered him there as she walked in from the front room.

"What are you _doing_?!" She hissed.

Draco jumped about three feet into the air. His side twisted as he whipped around, nearly destroying his balance where he teetered on the last stair step.

"Shut u- uh!" A low hiss, like an asp's whisper, escaped his lips. He bit down on his tongue hard. Ginny had a hand on her hip, looking all too much like Molly. Malfoy glared at her once his voice was returned to him. "Go away."

"I know what your up to."

"Do I care?" He snapped, turning his back to her.

"So touchy…"

Draco's face contorted, his lips giving way to a wicked sneer, an eyebrow shooting upwards. "You would be to."

The Mini-Weasel rocked back onto her heels. "Go upstairs and I won't tell them you were listening."

"I _can't_ listen with your incessant jabbering!"

"Upstairs!"

His blood pressure spiking, Malfoy turned slowly on the girl, his eyes wide. "Don't you tell me what to do." He leaned forward, unable to take a step due to the position of Moody's walking stick. Ginny backed up a pace. "You're not my mother!" He hadn't realized he was shouting. His voice cracked painfully.

"Draco…" Ginny said delicately, her eyes soft and comforting.

"What's all this noise?" Lupin had opened the door to find a exhausted and horrified Malfoy leaning against the banister; a shocked Ginny standing perfectly still in the middle of the moldy hallway. The man sighed.

Draco grit his teeth.

"I'll handle this." A voice reverberated from within the room. Harry Potter pushed past the old Professor. "You guys keep on; I'll only be a second."

"Harry…" Lupin started warily, but Potter had smiled that winning smile of his, reassuring the man instantaneously.

Draco snarled.

The door clicked closed.

"Ginny." Harry waved her over. As the red head walked towards them, Malfoy thought he might be able to make a break for it- try and throw himself out a window- or at least run, er- hobble- back upstairs. "Will you go start Malfoy some soup?"

"Sure Harry." Ginny left them and disappeared into the kitchen. Potter gazed at Draco with look the blonde could hardly place.

Draco grimaced. "Don't say it." His heart hurt; pounded. "I'll go back upstairs."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "That's not what I was going to say. But it would help."

"Hah…"

"I wanted to tell you something."

This quipped Draco's interest. "Yea?" He cocked an eyebrow, handing Moody's cane over to the boy when he reached for it. "What?"

Potter placed the stick back into the umbrella stand and came over to sit on the stairs. Grimacing, Malfoy sat down as well.

"I know how you feel, for starters."

"_Really_, Potter? Because, I might be blind, but you _are_ one of the ones sitting and planning your little raids and tricks and things in that nice room over there." He inclined his chin. "I was under the impression that it is _I _who is currently bedridden and **not** being allowed to participate."

Harry sighed. "My Godfather. He felt the same way…"

_When Potter had finished, Draco didn't seem hungry for his soup any longer…_

Hermione leaned on her elbow. "You 'want to' what, Draco?"

Malfoy swallowed the spoonful, not registering the taste of the filthy medicine. He quieted his nerves, tried to suppress the useless feeling he had within his soul.

Sirius felt useless… see where it got him?

"It's been five days… no, _six_."

It was nearly two in the morning on that Saturday- Malfoy had been yelling in his sleep and woke with a ravenous hunger, Hermione, sleeping next to him, agreed to make him a meal.

Thus, they now sat at the kitchen table.

Draco continued. "I feel better, the pain is nothing but a dull throb. I want to fight with you when the time comes. I am capable! I want to be included! I have ever reason to…"

"Your wand, Draco." Hermione laid a hand on his. Malfoy yanked it away. "You have no wand; please, be reasonable!"

Her words, although no intention was meant, cut him deeply. His wand. He beautiful Hawthorn wand. He loved the handle, the way it rested so firmly within his palm. It smelled like sweet peeling varnish...

Now it lay by his bedside, nearly split in two.

Malfoy pushed back his chair. "I'm not hungry. I think I'll go back upstairs. I'm sorry; I just-"

Smiling knowling, Hermione came around the table and enveloped him within a large hug. Draco closed his eyes. She kissed him.

"I know it's hard. Just be patient. Until you're one hundred percent and we have secured a new wand for you, then we'll fill you in. Lupin and Arthur don't want you to overexert yourself." Malfoy nodded. Hermione gave him another squeeze. "I'm going to wash this." She meant the soup stuffs. "I think Harry, Ginny, and Ron are in the sitting room cleaning."

Malfoy looked puzzled. "This early in the morning?"

Hermione shrugged. "Ginny woke up when you did." Draco knew this implied that his sleep-screaming had unnerved her. He scowled, embarrassed with himself. "And Ron and Harry just got back from tailing some Ministry Official. They didn't want to fall asleep, so they're cleaning."

"Okay." He said weakly.

"You should try and…"

"No."

The nights, filled with constant dreams, were starting to scare Draco. He didn't want to go back to bed…

"I'll be in the sitting room."

"Okay."

Instead of making a beeline for the room where the others cleaned, Draco walked aimlessly around the hallways, waiting for Hermione to finish. Passing a door that was ajar, he paused.

There seemed to be an immense tree- either that or its limbs- drawn onto the walls.

Malfoy touched the door and it swung in easily. He walked, almost without an ounce of a limp- into the white room.

Draco stared.

Branches; stitching.

It was a family tree…

The Black Family Tree.

The door behind Draco swung shut and clinked against its frame. Malfoy turned slowly on the spot in the middle of the carpet. He twisted his head, eyes flickering over the pictures and names on the intricate branches.

The green and brown and many colored hues were faded, yet they were still beautiful.

Slowly, he crept to the wall. Dust stung his eyes when he touched one of the thick branches.

Then Malfoy saw the burn marks…

Tonks… Sirius…

Draco bit his lip.

They had been burnt out of the pages of the Black Family history.

_His _family history

A sick feeling wound its way through Malfoy's stomach as he saw the others who were now faceless.

He touched the place where Tonks' mother's picture use to be. A large flaked piece of charred thread and plaster fell to the ground, staining the carpet black with soot.

He was touching it…. His eyes were wide with wonder, his mouth slightly open.

Moving right, Draco found a more recognizable name.

Bellatrix.

Attached to the familiar face was a thin branch extending in a large arch across space. Draco followed it with dread.

His mother.

Her picture was blurred, not burnt, as if she name and face were made of ink that had run. Malfoy touched the place where the 'N' was barely visible.

Why?

Did it know she was already dead? Must…

Draco pressed his cheek against his mother's ruined image and a swell of emotion choked his throat.

He didn't weep.

Kissing his mother's blotched and muddled face, Draco pressed a thin and pale hand over his father's image as if to erase it from the Family's wall; to undo him.

A thin rope like vine that had been twisted elegantly around his father and his mother's pictures was broken, the green stem hanging limply- its ends browned and dead looking. From the middle of the severed line was a third stem.

Malfoy, his palms running down the wall as he crouched, followed the trail to his own space on the tree.

The frame around his face was destroyed. Like the other disowned family members, only a charred mass remained of his golden head.

His name, however, shown brightly in a hue of dark forest green, mocking.

_Draco Malfoy_

A sob; choked, escaped his pale lips.

You are stronger then this family…

A rush of air filled his lungs. Looking up at his father's arrogant and smirking picture, Draco dug his fingers under the loose hole in the wallpaper where his own face use to be.

All of the frustration, all the hate, all the pain that he could no longer ignore, all the blood that could not be repented; it bubbled and ran like live wire through Malfoy's veins.

In a rush, his arms tensing, Draco pulled upwards with all his energy.

A great strip of the wall tore away from the rest, a long rut of rot and moldy wood exposed. The thin flap of cut away tree enveloped his father's name and picture.

Draco pulled sharply downward.

The long ribbon fluttered and fell to the floor; his father's name and picture still upon it.

The wall, now marred, looked exceedingly ugly- not at all wondrous like it once had.

Ignoring the hurt at his own defaced image, Malfoy pressed another cold kiss onto his mother's washed away face.

Quickly, as if he had become suddenly embarrassed, Malfoy exited the room, shutting the door with deliberate force behind him.

"Oiy, Malfoy?"

It was the Weasel. His head poked around the corner into the hallway.

"Uhn?"

"Where's Hermione?"

Malfoy shoved his hands into the pockets of his black pants. "Kitchen."

"Oh." Ron went silent for a moment. He looked down at his feet. "Well… why don't you come and help us then?"

Nodding absently, Draco followed the boy into the room where Harry was currently trying to make a fire- unsuccessful because of the dampness of the old wood- and where Ginny was pondering over a solid silver ashtray on a small table next to the left arm of the couch.

The couch itself sent up a small cloud of… Draco tried not to think about it as he sat down heavily upon the cushions. He tilted his head back.

"How do you feel?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, just spot on."

"Well, we're glad you're back to your annoying, arrogant self, Ferret."

"_Ron_!"

Harry chuckled.

"Are you four arguing?" Hermione entered into the room, a dish towel drying her hands. She came over and kissed Malfoy upside-down; his head leaning over the back of the couch.

"Ron's being insensitive."

Hermione snorted. Draco smirked, but his smile fell as he twitched his neck to the left sharply.

Everyone in the room stared at him.

"Ah-" He started, embarrassed as his hand flew to his neck and itched it. Harry came over and joined the other three who were standing around Malfoy as he twitched again.

"What's wrong?"

"Ugh!" Ginny covered her mouth.

"What!" Hermione said sharply.

"Draco, your neck!"

Malfoy, panicked, pulled back his hair. The other four gasped.

"Oh my god."

"What is that?!"

"Draco!"

Harry leaned in a looked at the small mark. "It's a snake..."

Draco felt as if he would be sick. "Merlin!" He swore sharply as his neck suddenly burned white hot.

"What did they do!?"

"It's-" And it was if Malfoy was just recalling. He looked sharply up at Hermione, both his hands clasping his neck. "They found my ring!" Hermione started to breath very rapidly. "They found it and knew I betray them!" He looked at Harry. "He did it!"

They all knew who 'he' was.

"He burned it into my skin!" And the memory resurfaced. He was yelling, writhing on the couch.

Everyone was stunned; the abruptness of this new development had caught them off guard.

"Harry." Hermione said suddenly, eyes still on Draco. "Why do muggle farmers brand their cattle?"

Harry stared at her. She looked slowly up at him; horror in her gaze.

"To-" Potter started, going very still. "To keep track of them."

Ron pulled Ginny away from the couch.

"Go get mom! Go get everyone! Hurry!"

Ginny bolted away.

Draco screamed; high pitched.

Ginny fell on third or fourth step of the staircase. Scrambling, she bolted forward.

"Hurry!"

As the Weasley girl rounded the landing and disappeared up the stairs, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione drew their wands, as Draco's cries reached a fevered pitch, the door to Number 12 Grimmauld Place suddenly burst inward and spiraled onto the hardwood floor.

Popping sounds reverberated within the room as cloaked wizards Apperated all around them.

* * *

A/n- Wow, long! 

The reason the Death Eaters were able to find Number 12 was because of Snape (he knew the location). But! Because he had betrayed the Order, they had put a ward on the building so he couldn't enter.

They used the brand as a mechanism of locating Draco, thus producing the house and making it plotable and Apparate-able and ...er... enter-able?

Anyway, yeah.

The next chapter is going to be just as long so it might be delayed a few days! THREE CHAPTERS LEFT!

Review!


	17. Ashes

A/n- Thanks to **Lildaani**, _Kitematsu_, **magic2007**, _ginnyginny_, **The Princess Wolf**, _Dwindlingcandle_, **Markitdownb4itsstruck**, _doornumberthree_, and **elspethana** who all reviewed the last chapter!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter ain't mine.

Summary: The great battle. Oh, and did Grimmauld Place ever have a piano? Well, it has a small one, just because I said so (don't worry, it's not random- well, maybe now it is, but it won't be).

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate**

* * *

Popping sounds, like an immeasurable number of firecrackers, erupted all around the group crouched upon the floor. A mass of hooded figures poured in through the open doorway, nearly a dozen Apparating in the sitting room and the adjacent Kitchen.

With a sudden jerking movement, Harry grabbed Hermione's shoulders and pulled her down and towards his chest. A red jet of sparks whizzed by where her head had been, burning a half-moon shaped scar in the cloth near Draco's ear.

Malfoy's head whipped around to avoid the spell; flattening himself out against the sofa, his chest constricting from fear; the pain and the sudden onset of adrenaline making his head spin and the world tilt dangerously.

He could smell the burning cloth.

"Expeliarmus!"

The Deatheater who had shot the curse flew back and cracked against the fireplace, crumpling into a heap on the floor.

Draco didn't want to look up. Through a groggy haze he tried to make since of what was going on, tried to get to Hermione.

"There he is!" A women screeched; her cry echoing around the strange acoustics of the house.

Another jet; green this time, came from the upstairs landing. In a burst of light a mass of white flew down the staircase and out the front door, through the legs of the nine or so Deatheaters.

The confusion was massive.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were standing around the couch, dodging and sending spells in every direction. Cursing, Malfoy crouched behind them- being without a wand- wishing he could fight.

He felt very helpless and alone; as if he were a muggle in the middle of Diagon Ally.

Perhaps he could, he thought- twisting out of the range of another spell, quickly try and Spello Tape the wand. A sick feeling squashed the idea as he remembered Wesley's shabby spell work second year…

"Boys!? Hermione?!" Draco could hear Mr. Weasley yell, her voice sounding so far away…

Lupin ran half way down the staircase and stunned another hooded figure who had entered through the doorway.

"Molly! Kingsley!" He yelled. "They're in the street!" Lupin sent another spell and hit three more Deatheaters.

Jumping over the latter part of the spiraling banister he landed right in front of a rather lanky hooded man.

A jet of sparks erupted into the man's hood from Lupin's wand tip. Screaming, the man fell over and Remus pushed him out of the way.

Seconds later, Molly, Arthur, Tonks, and the twins appeared, sending hexes bouncing off the walls, shattering vases, and cracking the plaster walls.

The house shook, dust raining down from the ancient cracks. Draco could see the specks of gray in Potter's hair.

Leaving the rest of his family inside, Arthur ran to join Remus in the lane. Kingsley followed.

A great smash, large wall plate, made of what looked suspiciously like solid gold, fell from its flimsy peg and smacked on top of one of the hooded men's head. Ron's spell had apparently gone a slight awry.

"Whoops." He murmured, another curse barely missing him.

"Mum?!" A scared voice sounded from upstairs. Scared, but determined.

"Ginny!" Molly screamed as she dueled a large bulky man. "Stay put!"

"But mum!" The voice was high pitched and frantic but was cut off as a too-thin women was sent through the hall cabinet by a rushing mass of pink.

"Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks yelled, jumping onto the couch's cushions and cursing a man who had raised his wand. The figure fell over. "Don't worry about this lot; we've called rest of the Order at the Ministry and a few others!" She was grinning mad, a powerhouse of energy, as she whirled around to duel another man.

Draco registered faintly that the white shapes must have been a viable herd of patronus charms.

Malfoy skirted around the table and was nearly killed when an Avada Kedavra curse whooshed right by his ear. The light made him jump and yank his head sideways away from it. He could smell it, the slow burn of the energy.

Hermione yelled, inaudible.

The women who had meant to kill Draco was suddenly picked up off her feet as she sailed through the front window; screaming as the glass shattered.

Fred grimaced.

"Didn't mean to do that, did we George?"

"Course not, Fred! What you said we go see what kind of fun dad's having?"

"I quite agree. Come on!"

The two stunned a few figures on the street before jumping out of the broken window to join Arthur and Kingsley.

"Bloody Hell!" Ron suddenly screamed as one of the rather large Deatheaters threw down his wand and out of pure anger had grabbed the red head and currently was holding him in what looked like a very malformed choke hold.

Skidding to a stop after the killing curse had nearly hit him, Draco turned around sharply, planting his feet out wide. The sharp one-eighty nearly sent him to the ground. He looked like a sprinted who had just bolted from the starting lines.

Quick decisions.

The man's wand lay forgotten on the ground.

He could reach it.

But Weasley!

Malfoy sped forward and bent his own legs down so he skidded to the ground. His pale hand wrapped around the man's wand and he pointed it up at the Deatheaters' back. He yelled the first spell that came to mind.

"Incendio!"

A burst of flame erupted on the man's back and Ron was dropped, gasping, to the floor. The Deatheater howled and tripped backwards, his hood falling over.

Malfoy's stomach dropped out from under him

Goyle's father.

The man screamed, arms flailing.

"Malfoy!" Harry yelled over the commotion.

Draco, frozen where he knelt, unsure of what to do; his mind numb.

"Goddamnit Malfoy, move!"

The man who was on fire was quickly falling backwards, stumbling. Malfoy dove out of the way; narrowly missing being pinned down. The wand he had acquired dropped to the floor.

Goyle senior, in his flailing around, grasped back his wand.

The others were fighting. Draco had no wand.

The man was still on fire.

Malfoy couldn't cast the Aguamente charm.

"Merlin! Mer- Bloody Hell! Potter! Weasley!" He called frantically.

But before the others could react, the bulky man pulled his wand up. Draco flinched away, covering his eyes with his arm - as if that would stifle any curse. The wand burst red and Malfoy felt a whoosh of air.

The man's hand, now engulfed in flame, dropped to the floor.

Malfoy slowly turned.

"Aguamente!" Hermione screeched. The fire was out. The man was dead.

"He…" Draco felt sick swirling in his stomach. Goyle's father… he took his own- "N-no." Malfoy moaned softly.

"Get up! Get up!" Tonks shouted at him.

They were still fighting; although most of the Deatheaters had been stunned, tied up, knocked unconscious, or killed.

Draco sprang to his feet, ran to the doorway.

Were they going to win?

A pop made him pause. He had run into a Deatheater.

All background noise faded slowly away…

"Urk-" Draco's blood ran cold. From within the hallway, no one could see him. He was dead.

The thin man looked down at him and pushed something into Malfoy's hand. Draco trembled. Turning his palm up he saw a wand resting there. Something about it was familiar…

His heart wrenched.

His mother's wand.

"UH-" He gasped. Snapping his head up he looked into the black hood of the unknown Deatheater. The man's eyes flickered behind a greasy curtain of black hair, down his long hooked nose.

The figure Disapparated.

Suddenly; someone cried out in the front yard.

"Get back!" Mr. Weasley yelled. "Go into the house! Hurry!"

Fred came bounding in through the doorway; Malfoy followed him.

"More of them!" He shouted. Blood was tricking down from his forehead, his lower left arm stuck out at an odd angle.

Draco rushed to the broken window. Clutching the jagged pane, he felt a bite of horror.

Outside, nearly twenty or so new figures popped into view. The tall one, the one who had given Draco a wand, was leading them closer and closer to Number Twelve.

In reckless ambition, the second in command Deatheater, the one striding next to the tallest- ripped back his hood and cloak. His shadowed hand whipped back, the garment bellowing in the wind. The figure's hand unclenched, the cloth twisting and twirling over the heads behind him.

"Blaise."

The mercury colored mask dripped slowly off the boy's face as he raised his wand. His bloodthirsty grin flashed dangerously in the pre-dawn.

Draco's stomach lurched as he saw the bodies of a handful of muglges scattered about the pavement.

It was unnerving how the other Deatheaters upon the sidewalk had paused as well, watching this procession of young blood. It was the other Slytherins who followed the tall figure and Blaise.

Draco glanced behind him. He knew this new group wouldn't be the last.

Obviously, the first wave was the weakest, Voldemort knew their ranks would be annihilated against the Order's wands. Blaise and the Slytherin's presence was the second group. If they were to also fall, the Dark Lord and his most trusted few would surely follow.

There was a sudden pop; Kingsley Shacklebolt- who was framed by Number Twelve's doorway- made a strangled kind of noise.

Part way down the front steps, three women and four men had Apperated. The _only_ witches and wizards to have answered the Order's patronus.

Suddenly Blaise's hand whipped out.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Hesia!" Kingsley barked.

The wand clutched in Malfoy's hand shook as he watched.

The women hit by Blaise's spell crumpled to the ground. The other six Ministry members reacted quickly. They dodged and stunned a few of the older Deatheaters before retreating into the house.

"What's going on?!" One of the men yelled as a spell shattered the door frame; they retreated further into the room.

"We sent for help!"

"We've got some trouble of our own; the Deatheaters are in the Ministry!"

Molly Weasley sucked in her breath sharply; hissing.

"We'll hold them off mum! You and Dad go to the Ministry!"

"No, Ron."

"Hermione?"

"We have to escape." She explained. "Harry, agree with me. Draco?"

Harry said something inaudible, but Malfoy wasn't listening, he was still frozen against the window. The Slytherins were arranging themselves with the other Deatheaters around the house in an immense semi-circle.

"Draco?" Hermione took a step towards him.

Blaise's eyes flashed up. The cold gaze met Malfoy's gray one.

The boy raised his wand. Draco saw his lips move soundlessly, as if it were in slow motion.

"Get back!" Draco suddenly yelled. One of the Deatheaters, the one from when Ron had dropped the plate on him, had gotten up, was staggering close to the fireplace. No one took notice. "Get down!" Malfoy screamed as he crushed Hermione to him, as he braised his legs and threw the both of them sideways.

A crash that shook the whole house slammed into the wall with the broken window. The spell Blaise had sent towards Draco hit the side of the building and had blown it apart.

A section of plaster, bigger then Malfoy's head, hit the groggy Deatheater with so much force that he was crushed into the opposite wall by it. Another portion fell outwards onto the steps and the planter box, shattered into hunks onto the pavement. The part with the window bowed inward but did not crumble; it leaned dangerously on the small black piano that had been covered with such a delicate sheen of dust.

Malfoy felt something heavy on his back. Someone- Lupin- rushed to pull the pair out from under a large chunk of the front wall. Draco groaned.

There was another flash of light; something bright white, large, with clip-clopping hooves, that clattered through the open gash in Number Twelve's structure.

Everyone swiveled to see Ginny at the top of the stairs.

"Get back!" Arthur yelled.

"No!"

"Ginny!" Harry yelled.

There was a torrent of noise as the Deatheaters started attacking. Malfoy pulled Hermione behind the couch.

"Are you all right?" He said frantically, his hands running all over her body to check for wounds. "Speak!"

"Draco-"

Harry sent a spell through the absent wall and stunned one of the Slytherins. Quickly, following suit, Draco stood and blasted a powerful hex through the air. His bottled up frustration and energy reflected in the spell's strength. It hit a cloaked figure and sent him sailing back nearly seven feet.

"Take Ginny and go." Malfoy said in earnest, bending to shake Hermione's shoulders. "Get out of here!" The confusion on her face grew as she noticed the wand in his hand. A second later, her face was set.

"I can't."

"You have to."

A spell shredded what remained of the china hutch. Glass shattered like rain and glitter through the air.

Malfoy felt a paper-cut like pain on his face but he ignored it; Hermione's head safely in the crook of his arm.

He pulled back.

"You _must_ go; if anything happens to you, I'll die. I will."

"I can't."

Malfoy looked at her. Amidst the skirmish he saw the truth and loyalty in her eyes. Swiftly, he kissed her lips hard, forcibly.

"I love you."

"I love you, Draco."

"Look!" Ginny gasped in horrified delight.

Even the Deatheaters, the ones who were on the lawn and in the house, turned. Back admits the trees across the street, figures emerged.

Malfoy stood, disbelieving.

Ginny pumped her fist in the air.

A spell struck out from the new group and hit the nearest Slytherin Deatheater square in the face. From the darkness more Hogwarts students materialized. Now the Deatheaters turned their attention to this new foe.

More spells.

Neville dodged one of the spells and Stupefied an enemy.

Luna, Neville, Cho… so many others.

Dumbledor's Army.

Ginny had called Dumbledor's Army.

Malfoy cried out, a strange sound. Behind a pair of Hufflepuff girls he didn't know were five faces he clearly recognized.

Pansy, Millicent, Tracy, Daphne.

Goyle.

Another strangled cry escaped Draco's lips.

He was _alive_.

_Alive!_

A quick debate between the now flanked Deatheaters swiftly took place. Risk a group of classmates who's numbers rivaled their own, or a house filled with less then half that?

They took the house and stormed Number Twelve.

"Ready!" Lupin called as they surged the broken wall.

Everyone's wands were out.

"Expeliarmus!" Harry cried.

"Stupefy!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Reducto!"

Dumbledor's Army ran forward.

Confusion.

Malfoy sent curse after curse through the thick and tensioned. He felt blood trickling down his face.

Fatigue.

Draco saw the frightened face of Theodore Nott fall before him just as he was about to attack. Goyle winked at him, his wand up.

Draco grinned back.

They were going to have a long, long talk as soon as this madness was over.

Pansy flung herself, her fragile body, into the fray, trying to disarm another Deatheater. Goyle's attention snapped to her and he dove after.

Crack. Crack. Crack. A flurry of noise.

Adrian Puecy and Draco began to duel; Malfoy's back against the couch. A killing curse whipped by Malfoy's ear, hitting the stairwell.

"Blood Bastard." Puecy sneered as he deflected Draco's curse.

"Killer." Was all Draco said.

Puecy stiffened. "Reducto!" He shrilled.

"Stupefy!" Draco screamed at the same time.

Puecy's spell hit Malfoy in the chest and he flew back onto the couch, his mother's wand flying out of his hand. Adrian fell into a heap on the floor. The table next to the armchair wobbled and fell over.

His head swam.

"Harry!" Someone shrieked in distress.

Faintly, Malfoy registered it was Ginny.

"Harry!" She cried a second time.

Someone laughed.

"Gi-"

"He can't save you now, you filthy little bitch."

_Blaise_.

Weakly, Draco twisted around and heaved himself up a bit.

Zabini was towering over the tiny Weasley girl, Ginny sprawled on the first few steps of the staircase. She was defenseless.

"No." Malfoy croaked.

He had no wand. Where was his wand?! Ginny!

The dark haired boy raised his wand over his head. The fear in the girl's eyes was so absolute, so calculated.

Desperately, Draco fumbled for something- anything!

The upended table next to the couch... Malfoy's hand closed around the solid silver ashtray.

Blaise's chest heaved.

"Cruci-"

Chucking the silver weight as hard as he could, Draco let it fly towards Zabini.

It crashed into the side of Blaise's head. The boy stumbled and fell over onto the floor, unconscious.

Malfoy watched in silent disbelief as the ashtray clattered onto the hardwood, upturned. It whirled and rattled around and around, coming to a shuttering stop next to Blaise's head.

Screaming, Ginny clutched her head. Tracy ran to her and pulled her away from the fray. The girl grasped onto the other's arm, sobbing.

Malfoy's attention was distracted as he glanced up the stairs.

Lupin.

Lupin was hurling curses as Severus Snape, the man's cloak having dislodged itself from around his neck. From the looks of it, Snape was having a hard time keeping up, Remus' fury was so precise.

Snape's wand was suddenly gone.

Draco's throat was constricted.

"You son of a bitch, you traitor!" Lupin was screaming, his wand pointed. Snape's face was dead set, not calm, but stone like. "I'll kill you!" Snape said nothing. Lupin's fury seemed to grow. "FINE!"

Malfoy lurched.

Snape.

He had saved Draco from Voldemort. He had released Goyle from his prison. He had given Draco his mother's wand.

Traitor he may be… but not to the Order.

"NO!" Malfoy screamed. Lupin paused, looking frantically around. He and Draco locked eyes. "Don't! He didn't! He's not- not-" Snape was glaring at him, livid. "He's not one of them!"

A spell from behind Draco forced him flatten against the ground, it was so powerful. A great whoosh seemed to soak up the sound from the rest of the fight.

The spell hit Snape and he flew back into the wall of the stairwell, shattering the vase that perched there.

Malfoy turned around, slowly, deathly so.

Framed by the green flames from within the lit hearth of Number Twelve's fireplace was Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Lord Voldemort. Slowly, the Dark Lord lowered his wand.

The other Deatheaters were still at the Ministry, yes, but these three had come at last.

And they had come to put an end to it all…

* * *

A/n- So actually, I decided to split this chapter into two parts. It ended so nicely here.

So really, instead of two more chapters, NOW there are three more chapters left.

(I didn't want to have this be like 19 pages; it would loose its poignancy.)

So, I'm continuing to write, not taking a break this time. The new chapter may be up as early as Monday, maybe Sunday if I'm lucky and I write fast/well.

Please review, this chapter was very arduous!


	18. Recollect

A/n- Thanks to those who reviewed: **magic2007**, _elspethana_, **Syranda,** _Natural-181_, **doornumberthree**, _Draco's secret Lover_, **slytherinprincess**, _The Princess Wolf_, **Mazakai**, _Lildaani_, **Kitematsu** _spacky,_and** Dwindlingcandle**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is NAT mine. (Borat anybody?)

Summary: Part two? I know a few people said the last chapter was hard to follow. I tried to make it really chaos'ee (perhaps overly so, oh well). This chapter should be easier to understand because its focus more on what's going on with Draco rather then what's going on with everyone else PLUS Draco.

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate**

* * *

"Now, now." The Dark Lord murmured, fingering his wand delicately. "This _is_ a sight to behold, is it not Lucius?" The other man said nothing "It seems I should have re-evaluated my previous orders; sent our most challenging men **here** instead of to the Ministry. Now, whose advice had that been?"

Draco saw his eyes dart over to where Lupin was partly bent, stunned into unmoving horror, over the still form of Severus Snape.

Malfoy also saw in his peripheral vision, Millicent Bulstrode standing over Crabb, the wand that had been snaking ropes around his frozen body, stalk still. She was shaking like a leaf. The other Slytherins under Goyle's apparent control looked just as stricken.

Harry Potter stepped forward in front of his friends and family; in front of the stunned, unconscious men and boys on the floor. In front of the dead bodies.

"It's me you want. Not here. I'll fight you, but not here."

Voldemort's smile twisted into something inhuman. His gaze traveled around the other silent occupants of Number Twelve as if to gage weather or not to indulge in Potter's wishes or to ignore him.

Would the pull to kill be that strong? Draco wondered frantically.

He wouldn't look at his father. He knew that, for now, he was in no danger of Lucius. Although Potter and the Dark Lord may fight, his father would never move unless instructed. Still, he wouldn't look.

Crack!

Someone Apperated outside in the street.

"Arthur! Arthur!?" A witch was yelling; her voice sounding distressed yet triumphant. "It's over! We've got the Ministry!"

Snarling, Bellatrix, who was standing on the left side of Voldemort, pointed her wand out the shattered wall of the building. A killing curse dropped the Ministry women dead instantaneously.

A roar ripped from someone's chest. Seconds later, Longbottom charged. For such a bumbling boy, Malfoy was surprised at the sheer courage of the sudden act.

Bellatrix Lestrange only had time to let out one solitary note of her shrieking laugh before she had to deflect one of the boy's jinxes.

"Neville!" Cho Chang screamed.

Voldemort raised his wand silently, deadly. Potter didn't wait for him to act.

"Expeliarmus!"

Draco wasn't able to hear the counter spell; something had suddenly picked him up off his feet and had thrown his with considerable force against what remained of the entrance hallway wall. Pain blurred his vision; his breath had been knocked out of him.

He fell face down onto the floor.

Something within his chest had snapped. He felt it; his rib.

Gasping; Draco pulled one knee under him, bent it slowly, and pushed himself part way up.

Draco's vision swam unsteadily.

Something- someone- was moving toward him.

Malfoy coughed, flecking red onto the black hardwood.

His father.

Weakly, Draco turned his head and saw that the other masked men, once they had the reinforcement of their Lord, had gone back to fighting. It was taking Hermione, Tonks, and Luna to keep just one of them at bay.

Malfoy struggled to keep his baring as Lucius stopped a few feet in front of him. He was waiting, like a vulture, waiting and watching his son's pain and fear.

Draco's right arm curled around his own midsection, as if he was trying to urge his lungs to breath. Slowly, he pushed himself onto his feet.

"Where is your wand?"

His father's tone was almost concerned, nearly. It was a mask, Draco knew, for disappointment. He was _disappointed_ that Draco wouldn't be able to put up a fight before he killed him.

Draco gasped, a thin sheen of sweat from the battle making his paper thin white skin glitter ethereally. "Mother's…wand…"

Lucius' eyes flashed dangerously. "Quiet!" He demanded, his cane thrown to the floor, his wand pulled from it.

His beautiful black wand…

The world seemed ultra-bright. The piano behind his father glittered.

Draco's chest heaved again, breath ragged. His gaze flicked up to his fathers'. Gray eyes… so troubled. The young Malfoy shook.

"I had it, right here. It's lost."

"You're pathetic." His father hissed through gritted teeth. "Although." His chin tilted up so he gazed down at his son from behind his pointed nose. He smirked, sneered. "I am surprised to see you alive; I would have thought those blood traitors would have left you for dead."

"They're not like you…" Draco managed.

"Silence!" His father advanced upon him. Malfoy retreated a few paces.

Draco moaned despite himself. "Father, please." He was not one to plead; his heart was breaking.

"You are no _son_ of mine. I am _not_ your father." Lucius pointed his wand. A sharp breath was brought through Draco's teeth; the boy cringed. "Narsissa is dead because of your foolishness! The Dark Lord killed her because you were _weak_! She betrayed all of us, for what? You! You filthy humiliation!"

A laugh, loud, high, and shrill, escaped Draco's pale and parted lips. "That's right, father. She **died** because of _me_!" Suddenly he was angry. Not caring if he was defenseless, he stepped forward.

From somewhere in the room a spell shattered a chair that had been mere feet from where Draco had crouched. The splinters of wood flew outwards like deadly projectiles. That noise reverberated in Draco's ears; seemed to echo his own sanity at that precise moment.

"You killed her, you bastard!" Malfoy's body tensed; his father looked livid. "You bloody-"

"Crucio!"

Pain ripped through Draco's body and he was on the floor again, writhing. Flames of magic licked at his limbs, his body hit by jagged waves of agony.

_Hermione_

He thought of her then, tried to detach himself from the pain. He could see her in his mind…

She was wearing her favorite jeans, the pink blouse he had bought her. She was laughing, curled up upon Draco's couch; the heavy draperies that had always cloaked the halls of Malfoy Manor were thrown back, light and sun flooding into the room.

The brilliance was so blindingly bright…

She kissed him, forcefully. Her lips crashed against his painfully, wantonly. Eagerness, sweet blissful eagerness.

Malfoy could hardly control himself.

The book that was upon her lap fell to the floor.

He knew he this was a dream, Draco knew it was an illusion his mind had created… he knew instead he was writhing in pain amongst the dead bodies of Deatheaters on the floor of Grimmauld Place.

Perhaps if he just died… just like that, the dream would become reality.

Oh please. Draco moaned loudly. Please let it be over.

He heard her voice, vaguely, "Draco! No! God, no! Draco!"

Lucius Malfoy was hovering over him. Draco could feel no remorse emanating from the man. He meant to kill his own blood, his own son.

Frantically, as if he could avoid the oncoming horror, Draco twisted his head away. His face met, through a haze of pain, with the dead body of some nameless man. His mother's wand- he could recognize it anywhere- was clenched in the corpse' cold, bloodless fingers.

The agony hit his ribs.

Crying out, Draco rolled over onto his side, the dead man's arm pressed under his chest. As the pain ebbed- this a sign that his father was poising for the killing curse- Draco's hand wrapped around the wand. It was such a comforting thing, as if his mother was with him.

Peacefully, Malfoy closed his eyes.

"NO!"

He had to mean it…

His father raised his wand with blinding speed.

Draco suddenly broke through the spasms of his agony.

"Reducto! Avada Kadavera!"

Lucius Malfoy was picked up off his feet and thrown back by the first spell, his body powerless by the weight and the power of it. The second spell killed him instantly. He crashed into the piano that stood against the wall. His head cracked against the ivory; the keys stained red.

A loud, abrupt jumble of notes…

Lucius' bulk slid off the small stool and onto the floor.

The world had lost all sound. Malfoy was staring up at the ceiling, his mother's wand out in front of him. He shook.

The battle raged, but still, it was nothing but a buzz in his ears.

Slowly, painfully, he got to his feet, staring, chest heaving, at his dead father.

Dead.

His mother.

Dead.

Dead. Dead.

One, two, three steps and he was half way there. One, two, three steps and he stood over his father's lifeless body.

Lucius' face was still twisted into the spell that he never got to speak. The man's cold eyes were shocked and frightened.

Draco bent over him, a hand extended. He ran his palm along his father's shinning hair- _his_ hair.

Oh god.

He caressed his father's jaw- _his _jaw.

Potter was wrong… he **was** a murderer….

Trembling, Malfoy softly closed Lucius' eyes.

He would have killed you! His mind screamed. He wouldn't have ever stopped until you were dead! Self defense! Self defense, you damned fool!

Draco's other hand, the one still holding his wand, was resting on the piano.

He saw what he had done. But he couldn't make a sound.

"Hermione!" Ron screamed, bringing Malfoy back to the present.

Draco whirled around. The first thing he noticed was Bellatrix unconscious on the floor. The second thing he saw sent a bullet of pain and fear through his heart.

Lord Voldemort was standing where the couch use to be. He was facing everyone in the room, everyone except Draco, who had been so quiet no one had seen him dart over to the corner where the piano stood.

Hermione was twisting uselessly in the arms of the Dark Lord. His wand was on her throat.

A last ditch attempt, obviously.

"One more step Potter; one more step from any of you and the filthy little Mudblood dies."

Fire ignited within Draco's veins. He pressed himself into the shadows of the fireplace, trying hard to remain unseen.

"You're beat." Harry said simply. "All your followers are gone."

Voldemort sneered, his wand never wavering from Hermione's throat. The girl whimpered. The man laughed mirthlessly.

Malfoy poised himself. The wand, he knew, was useless against this man. Perhaps he could distract him, though, just long enough for Potter to finish him off.

He hoped, anyway.

Draco steeled himself.

Rushing forward, Draco attempted to tackle the man; his shoulder- then elbow-connected with the Lord's upper side. Voldemort, surprised, released some of his grasp upon Hermione. Draco was able to wrap his arms around her before the three began to fall sideways.

Voldemort caught himself just before he fell. Draco curled away, still unable to gain a footing; he slipped.

A great force jetted itself from Voldemort's wand. Draco flew back as the spell hit him and Hermione. His back hit squarely against the stairwell. Some unseen force, perhaps a spell from Lupin or Molly, had tried to pad his landing; yet it had only marginally helped. His head thrust itself backwards and cracked against the hard surface. The wood was splintered, dust raining down.

A collective noise erupted, like firecrackers and gunshots.

For several seconds, perhaps a minute, Draco didn't know if he was still alive or not. He was sure that last one had done it; had broken him Yet, he could heard his heartbeat thudding in his ears, could hear Hermione screaming in his arms.

A small trickle of fresh blood dripped down from Draco's golden hairline. He was momentarily stunned. He felt arms trying to pry Hermione away. Malfoy couldn't hang on to her, he let them take her.

"Draco?" Lupin's voice.

Malfoy blinked blearily.

Slowly the room came back into focus. Harry and Voldemort were circling each other; each had their wands up and pointed. Everyone was watching, except for Tonks, Molly, and Ginny; who were dragging the wounded Order, DA, and Deatheaters into the kitchen where Kingsley was either shackling them or nursing to their wounds.

"You are very foolish, Potter, you will never be able to kill me."

Harry smirked. "It would see as if I have the advantage here. You're outnumbered." The Dark Lord laughed.

"Ah, Harry. You are no naïve!"

Suddenly, Voldemort lunged, a great cracking beam of light rushing towards Harry. Potter countered, his own wand sending sparks. The two energies met in the middle and a great crashing sound, like two boulders having been struck together, shook the house. Flecks of heat dripped and flew in every direction.

They were evenly matched, each fighting their hardest. They were at an impasse. Both spells met in the middle as two cylindrical columns of light. Voldemort's magic was black and sickening, Harry's white and pure.

"Draco!" Hermione knelt beside him, helping him to his feet. He kissed her then; her face, her neck, her hair. "Draco, my god, Draco." Tears were in her eyes.

"Shh, shh." He wanted everyone to melt away, wanted the confusion and hysteria to disappear.

"Harry can't win! He told me! It looks **exactly** like how they dueled at the Tri-Wizard's Tournament!" Her voice, her face, frantic.

Malfoy was breathless and he held her to him. "How do you know?" He looked up. The energy from the wands were struggling against each other; a horrific game of tug-o-war.

"Harry explained everything…"

Potter yelled some exclamation. His energy; he was pushing himself to the limit. Through the haze of smoke and spell, Draco could see Voldemort looked just as weakened.

Then, Malfoy- Hermione in his arms- froze. The girl looked at him in horror, afraid that something had happened.

Draco was moving his lips soundlessly.

A voice, a dead, long gone voice was drifting into Malfoy's mind… just a memory; a thin, pale, colorless memory…

"_Draco…you will learn of your importance in this battle between good and evil, I am certain of it._

Malfoy was rooted to the spot.

_You may not be chosen by birthright or prophecy, but that does not mean you are unimportant._

Dumbledore.

_You will learn soon enough… it will not be the powers of one, but the strength of many that will win this war."_

Malfoy's pulse quickened three fold. Hermione suddenly got very quiet, waiting for an explanation. She saw his expression. Slowly, Draco blinked.

Shakily, Draco turned to gaze at the women he loved with all his heart, with the whole of his soul. She was angelic…

Narcissa's wand was lithe and ready in Draco's hands. He felt its smooth, cold handle against his sweaty palm. Perhaps, in another world, his mother would have cherished Hermione. Perhaps. Malfoy made peace with himself, he knew what to do.

"Hermione." He said in the softest whisper he could manage over the noise. He touched her lips with his fingers. "Get your wand."

The girl visibly stiffened. "Why?"

"Never mind that!" Draco yelled, his calmness quickly evaporating. "Just! Just- please… please, something Dumbledore told me… please."

Hermione quickly ducked to where Ginny was moping blood off of the brow of an unconscious Blaise Zabini. Ginny gave her a weak smile, yet her eyes were terrified; she was so afraid for Harry.

The adults were watching the battle; they didn't notice Hermione had gone to stand once again at Draco's side. The boy kissed her lips softly.

"Do you trust me?"

There was a flurry of deafening noise as both Voldemort and Harry's wands crackled in unison.

"Yes." She answered.

"Do you love me?"

"Always."

Draco took a sharp step away from the shadows and towards the duel lighting Number Twelve with jets of red-gold, white, and orange. He was so close to Harry's side that he could smell the sulfur of spells in the air.

Potter's head whipped around and then back to the Dark Lord. Both his hands were grasping his wand.

"What are you doing!?" He screamed at Draco. His momentary lapse in concentration was enough for Voldemort to push his spell forward a few more feet. Harry groaned with the weight of it.

"You, Potter…" Draco was about to say something profound but thought better of it. Instead, he flashed his smirking grin, his chin tilted back, appraisingly so. "Don't tell me Wonder Boy's going to take all the credit?"

Malfoy pointed his mother's wand, both his hands gripping the handle, directly at the tip of Harry's.

"NO!" Harry barked loudly.

Draco's eyes closed momentarily. He let his right foot step in order to plant firmly plant him.

A burst of silver shot from Draco's wand. It connected with Harry's and sent a cloud of gray sparks into the air. A whooshing sound of air rushing all around them pulsed strangely. The twin beams swelled and Voldemort was knocked a pace backwards, his jet of light shrinking in length.

Harry's eyes, as wide as dinner plates, rounded on Malfoy. Draco's long pewter lashes flickered open; he grit his teeth, muscles tensing.

"You're going to kill yourself!" Harry screamed at him. "Why are you doing this?!"

"Simple, Potter." Draco panted. "Loyalty."

Harry looked shocked.

Hermione was at Draco's side in an instant.

"Harry…"

Potter hesitated, but nodded mutely. Hermione raised her wand and pointed it also at the throb of energy. The noise was of the earth splitting open as a green burst of light added to the torrent and diminished Voldemort's spell by more then half.

The Dark Lord was seething now, his face screwed up in painful concentration. His arms were shaking, his head tossing back and forth. He hissed…

Draco's head turned to look over Harry's shoulder. Ron was leaning against the banister. His eyes were dark as he watched what was going on. His gaze darted between Draco, Hermione, and then settled on Harry.

Malfoy watched him, tried to put on a friendly face- as friendly as could be mustered while holding such a powerful spell. How badly he wanted, now, for Weasley's… _friendship_? All they needed was one more, one more piece to the puzzle.

"Ron?" Harry asked simply.

Flicking his gaze away, Draco noticed Hermione's eyes were closed.

Weasley pushed himself off the wall and limped over. Malfoy saw the blood running down the back of his leg. He grimaced.

Ron looked at the three. "What a strange friendship, eh?" Hermione beamed at him. Ron pointed his wand and his red spell hit the collective.

The rumble of color and energy pushed back towards Voldemort as if the Lord's wand itself was sucking everything in. There was a great flash of light and the four spells at Draco's end snapped, the beams of light absorbing into Voldemort's wand. The wood crumpled inward, as if constricting, imploding.

A great keening sound seemed to suck all the noise from the room. Seconds before, the crashing of spells and energy was unbearably loud; now, it was as if someone had turned the volume to zero.

Malfoy's ears popped painfully.

A noise, as if a jet engine was revving… with a loud _whump _the noise returned. Voldemort's wand shattered, exploded. The man himself screamed- it was horrifying- as his body was also constricted. His thin, inhuman fingers clutched his opaque head as he bend forward, his body curling into itself.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco were knocked back onto the floor by the force of their spells.

A bang, and Voldemort was gone.

Silence.

No one moved.

Seconds ticked by.

Draco's heart spluttered uncomfortably.

Malfoy got to his knees quicker then the other three- they lay shocked upon the ground. "Potter!" Draco shook the boy's shoulders; Harry was so dazed. The green eyes barely focused. "Potter! I thought he couldn't be killed; the Horcruxes!"

Groggily, Harry whispered soft words. "His wand must have been a Horcruxe… but then… that still leaves one more… still….one more."

A low rumbling laugh filled the room.

Ginny, who was laying on the floor, screamed and pointed up.

A black mass of electric smoke curled from the puddle of Voldemort's ruined robes.

"How _true_, how _true_." The mass rumbled and rolled over itself like storm clouds, shaping wispy-like into a barely recognizable human form. Ron's chest started to heave from terror. Harry's mouth hung open.

Voldemort laughed as his presence filled the whole of the space, his blackness spreading out into the air.

Draco, crouching, tried to rally the three.

"Get up! We can- we'll do something!"

"Draco…" The voice boomed around them. "You disgrace your family. Give up." His voice was so inviting, so smooth, like silk.

"No!" Lupin made a motion, but he was thrown backwards by some invisible force. Tonks moaned.

"You see Harry? You'll die. Just like everyone you ever loved. And… Harry, I will kill them. Slowly. I'll destroy them in front of you… one by one…"

While Voldemort continued the abuse, Malfoy was staring at Ginny. Tears streamed down her face.

What had she said that was so important so many months ago? And why was he trying to remember it all?

"_His wand and Voldemort's have the same phoenix feather." Ginny rambled excitedly. _

_Malfoy blinked. "The same bird?" Harry nodded._

If Voldemort's wand was a Horcruxe…

The Dark Lord was laughing again.

"Potter!" Draco said quietly under his breath. "Your wand!" Mutely, Harry made a half hearted gesture. Draco turned around and saw the stick laying half way between where they lay and where Voldemort's black mass was gaining in thickness.

Stealing a glance at Hermione, Draco turned slowly around, looking at the small red slits that had formed within the black mist. Malfoy smiled darkly up at those eyes.

Bolting like a shot, he skidded along the ground. Hermione, Ginny, others, they all screamed his name.

Draco fell onto the wand; it was safe in his hands.

Voldemort howled in rage, swooping upwards towards the ceiling to collect himself.

"Potter!" Draco yelled. Harry, who was propped up by Hermione, looked at him, bewildered.

Voldemort's form was nearly solidly black now. He was headed straight for Draco. Malfoy chucked the wand, Harry caught it easily.

"Potter! Break it!"

Harry looked confused.

Voldemort was wailing in fury, barreling down onto them.

"They're the same! Break it! Break him!"

Something flickered over Harry's face. Understanding. He brought the wand up with both his hands.

Voldemort paused, his bodiless form molten soot in the air. "NO, POTTER!" The red eyes were wide at they glared at Malfoy with hate and loathing that reflected even the most evil of hell.

Draco sneered.

"This is for my mother, you son of a bitch."

Harry brought the shaft down onto his knee. The wand splintered and snapped in half; the spine of the phoenix feather tearing into two, destroyed.

In a blast that emanated what looked like black snow, Lord Voldemort burst into absolute and complete nothingness. The man's scream of rage faded off as silence fell around the room like a heavy blanket.

The inky flakes rained down as Draco crouched like a child, legs drawn up and hands over his head, afraid of what might happen next. His neck burned. Malfoy saw the blackness touch the singe the hardwood floor.

Cinders…

Out on the street, there were sirens. From beyond the clump of trees on the opposite sidewalk, the sun had risen. Its burning glow refracted strangely off the dust and smoke that filled the air. One particular ray of light draped itself over Draco's face, wincing smartly into his eyes.

Malfoy screwed his eyes shut, fatigue rattling and shaking his body. Popping noises sounded all around him, but he didn't care. He wanted to sleep, to just sleep.

This was such a terrible dream…

Later, Draco realized that, looking back, he must have lost consciousness. For, unaware of what was going on, he felt two pairs of hands gripped his wrists and yanked them backwards.

A very deep, low voice was barking orders.

It took Malfoy a moment, his eyes as heavy as lead, to blink… then to realize that the two someone's were dragging him across the floor. Frightened, disoriented, he gasped in surprise.

"Looks like he woke up, eh? Get the magic on 'em"

One of the figures looped a thick and heavy spell around his wrists, his arms wrenched behind him.

"Wait! I'm not-"

The room became a tad sharper and Draco saw Ministry Official, men and women from the Department of Magical Accident and Catastrophes, from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, a few Aurors. They were bustling around the house, wands flying, trying to piece back together the broken. A few witches were leading the Order, the DA, and Goyle's Slytherins outside.

From his position on the floor, Draco also saw Blaise Zabini being carried out, bound by the wrists as well, even if he was unconscious.

Malfoy struggled to his feet, yet the pair holding him pointed both their wands to his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a rather old, bent witch leaning over his father's body.

"Don't make one move, boy."

"It's not what you think." Draco's lips barely moved. They thought he was a Deatheater, then?

"Sure, boy, _sure_."

Turning him around, the two men led Draco down the partially exploded front steps of Grimmauld Place. The sun now bathed the street in a horrific light. Bodies were strewn all over the ground. There were Officials modifying muggle memories, stacking the dead across the street.

With a lurching feeling, Malfoy noticed the faces of Terence Higgs, Graham Pritchard, and Malcolm Baddock among the bodies of the older Deatheaters. He thought one of them was missing a limb, but he looked away instead.

Upon the lawn, the surviving lot huddled. Tonks, Kingsley, Arthur, Molly, all of the Weasley children, Hermione, Harry, the other nineteen DA members, some Ministry workers. They were being handed cups of tea, blankets, fatigue charms.

A young witch with worry creasing her face was leaning down; a hand on Ginny's back as the girl quietly vomited what childhood she had left into the soft summer grass.

Hermione looked up then, her eyes locking with Draco's as he was being led across the lawn. He felt the dried blood that was smeared across his face. She watched, her mouth hanging open, following him with her terrified gaze as if some movie reel had been slowed down to half speed.

"No!" She yelped. "He's not one of them!"

Someone sneered in his ear.

"Malfoy!" Draco's captors turned him and he saw Ron Weasley limping up to them.

"What's all this?" One of the men snapped, miffed.

"You've got it wrong, he's not a Deatheater." Ron stood awkwardly, his leg held at an angle as to avoid weight being put on it.

A tense moment followed.

The man snorted. "He's a bloody Malfoy!"

Ron's eyes narrowed. Sighing, the men undid the binding spell.

"All right, all right." The Ministry man scratched the back of his neck. "Let's get back in there… we've still got a few to round up." They loped towards Number Twelve without even a murmur of an apology.

The two boys stood there momentarily, silent.

Draco tossed his head back, and let out a sharp, harsh laugh. His side burned. He had forgotten his rib, the Sectumsempra spell…

"You know, Weasley, you could have just let them take me, then all your problems would have been solved."

Ron grinned, Malfoy smirked back.

"Well, Hermione wouldn't be very happy about that, would she?"

Draco grimaced. "S'pose not." He noticed the way Weasley was looking at him. It was lightly discomforting. Draco shifted his weight onto the other foot. "Uh-" Ron looked away.

"That was really smart Malfoy. The Horcruxe, the- all of it…" He trailed off. Draco nodded stiffly. Turning round, Ron shrugged and began to limp back towards the others. Malfoy's heart thudded in his chest.

"You damn idiot." He grumbled. Taking a pace or so forward, Malfoy swung an arm under Ron's shoulder blades. Ron looked startled but returned the gesture.

Limping together, supporting each other's weight, they started towards the others.

"Harry?" A voice made the group turn, Draco looked up too. Lupin had poked his head out of the blasted through doorway. "Harry, come here." His voice was soft, yet his tone was urgent.

Leaving, Harry took the broken steps two at a time and the pair disappeared back into Number 12 Grimmauld Place

Hermione was waiting there with tears in her eyes.

"Don't cry." Draco whispered as Ron was helped off his arm by Fred and George. "Don't cry…" But the girl fell into his chest, griping his shirt with clenched fists. Malfoy ran a hand up and down her back, trying to soothe her.

A voice reverberated around the street.

"All right, everyone." A extremely short man was standing on a upturned trash can, his wand pointed to his voice box. "We've got to get the wounded to St. Mungos!"

Draco breathed in the crisp morning air.

The warm sun had never felt so good…

* * *

A/n- NOW you see why I split it up? Two more chapters to go! I'm really excited about finishing; woooo!!!

So, the way I predicted Harry Potter would end (even if I was wrong) was that the last Horcruxe being destroyed would destroy Voldemort outright- his soul too evil to support himself once the other parts of him were gone (hence the exploding). Yeah. If you have any specific questions just ask in the review- I always reply!

Be AWESOME and please review!


	19. Penance

A/n- ONE more chapter!!! Thanks to those who reviewed: **Natural-181**,_ elspethana_, **Dwindlingcandle**, _magic2007_,** Kitematsu**, _The Princess Wolf_, **MRF13**, _kellyc, _and **Max Ride Fan 13**.

Disclaimer: …?

Summary: St. Mungo's. And this one is suppose to be short-er.

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate**

* * *

When Draco's finally moved, his neck felt as if someone had been standing upon it. A sudden twitch overtook his body and he jerked into consciousness.

He was staring at a white ceiling.

"Uh- pain." He murmured weakly as he shifted around in some small, uncomfortable chair. As Malfoy sat forward, he pulled his head from where it was propped up against the wall. The small Fourth Floor waiting room of St. Mungo's rapidly came into focus.

The L shaped row of couch like seats extended on either side of him, wrapping around the three walls of the sitting room alcove; one of the many little waiting areas off the long hallway; mini versions of the larger reception area on the ground floor. The circular table in front of him was piled with half-skimmed magazines.

"Didn't know you read that stuff, mate," a gruff voice suddenly laughed to Malfoy's left. Draco jumped, the voice having caught him off guard.

Goyle started laughing.

"I thought you were _Hermione_, you _bloody_ idiot!" Draco sighed, a hand fluttering to his bandaged side. The magazine Goyle had previously referred to slid from its crumbled position on Malfoy's chest to his lap as he sat up. He must have fallen asleep mid-read.

"Hermione left to see the Weasel I think."

Nodding, Draco bit his lip and picked the literature up from his lap: _Wizard's Quarterly._

"Uh." Draco's eyebrow quirked at the sight of the spiffy looking wizards leaning casually on the frame of their cover picture; all sporting winning smiles and taut fitting robes. "I don't have any idea what this is." He turned to look at Goyle. Draco realized, up close, that the boy was thinner in the face; bulky still, but as if he had taken some disinterest to food. He cast the thought aside. "When did you come down?"

Goyle nudged a small package that sat against the magazine table with his foot. "Just came back from the floor above; Gift Shop. Got Pansy something to cheer her up; she's been under some extra care. Been around to seeing some of the others." He trailed off and fiddled with the bent edge of Draco's discarded reading.

_WQ_… of all things idiotic…

Malfoy looked away.

Well, at least Goyle had_ seen_ the injured. As soon as the large group of Healers, Order members, DA, and the like had arrived at St. Mungo's, Draco had been whisked away at once to treat his broken ribs- two to be exact- in his upper chest. He suddenly felt very guilty that he hadn't checked up on the others.

Malfoy rotated his shoulder, inconspicuously trying to move the tight bandages that had begun to itch his skin. Oh, he wanted to be laying in the Hospital Wing with the comfortable beds and the fine Hogwarts food. After they declared that he was well enough to be discharged from his room, for there were other battle wounded witches and wizards to treat, Draco had been forced to move into the waiting room. Groggily, Hermione had sat with him until he had apparently fallen asleep.

It was nearly comical that the same injury would have warranted nearly three weeks of twenty four hour bedside care by Madam Pomfrey back at the castle.

"What time is it?" Malfoy's throat was so dry from the spells they had used to heal him.

"Nearly four p.m."

They had all come in before seven in the morning.

Draco hid his eyes with a hand. "Ugh. I don't think ten plus hours in St. Mungo's is good for anyone, even the patients."

Goyle laughed, nodding.

More silence.

This was such an impossible moment. Malfoy didn't know what to- this all felt like a dream. Like he had fallen asleep in his Hogwarts bed only to wake up in a strange white-washed sterile smelling muggle world.

The taste of old cleaning solution hung in the air.

"Who-" Draco started finally, as if jerked back into normal thought processes. There were so many questions! Who else had died? How had Goyle escaped? Was Ron all right? Potter? The Weasleys in general? Professor Lupin? Blaise? Fortunately Hermione had been spared serious injury…

"Three."

Malfoy's head snapped back to look at his fellow Slytherin's. Goyle's features were hard, smooth, collected. A silent 'what' formed on Draco's lips. "Three others? Dead?" He ventured; tentative.

Goyle proceeded to tick off on his fingers. "Terry Boot, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Alicia Spinnet. That's assuming, of course, you already know about Bole, Derrick, and Flint. I'm not counting… the adults either." Something flickered over the boy's face.

Oh god… his father.

"Listen, mate," Draco began, shifting to lean towards him, but Goyle shook his head.

"I'm all right. Already Owled mum. Don't worry about me."

Malfoy sent silent. The hard look in Goyle's eyes meant that that side of the conversation was closed. "Fine. But, how did you-?"

At this, Draco was surprised to see his schoolmate crack a wide and slightly mad grin. "Oh, you wouldn't believe it. Not for the life of you." The boy's squinting eyes were alight.

For the first time in what felt like a century, at the sight of the other boy's excitement, Draco felt a faintly familiar filter of jittery thrill within the pit of his stomach. Oh Merlin! He was still capable of normal human feeling! Praise! Draco smirked, tilting his chin up.

"Try me."

Goyle rolled his shoulders, his hands out as if to set the mood. His eyes were wide with a strange fervor. "So, there I was, all right mate? Just after you left.

There was so much activity, all of 'em Deatheaters running round your Manor; so I crept into the hall coat closet at decided to wait it out. Big mistake, mate, let me tell you. I was there from the time you left until Blaise and the rest of the willing Slytherins went out after You-Know-Who. I ended up sleeping there during the day with the door locked and sneaking out into the kitchen at night. Nothing I could do!

And that closets not the roomiest place either, mate.

Well, finally, there was all this flurry of activity, and I didn't know how many days it had been then, but all the Death Eaters were right excited. Suddenly, all of 'em was gone, eh mate? Must have Apperated over to the Ministry and to your Number Twelve.

That was it then; I'd had enough. I knew it was only the other Slytherin boys and girls left; they didn't bother me any. I unlocked the door with my wand and stepped out into the darkness.

And it was dark. Seemed the lamps in your Manor hadn't been turned on since Merlin knows!

Anyway, I started creeping along your hallway until I could hear the noises of some of the Slytherin girls. All the kids- First year to Seventh- was rounded up sitting at and around your Dinning Room table! Zabini was up by the fireplace, leaning on it, sickeningly. His eyes were watching the flame; head bent, back to the rest of the House, wand clutched tightly.

And Blaise was yelling at Pansy- kind of thickly come to think of it; I suspect he must have gotten into your father's liquor. He was slurring some of his words, pointing his wand first at the flames and then over his shoulder at her as she stood in front of some of the younger Slytherin kids.

'N I tell you she was yelling right back into his face. She must have been fed up with Zabini, you know mate? Just bloody screaming at the bloke. Apparently he was threatening all the kids who were not willing to fight- all the young ones and the girls basically. They didn't want to follow the Dark Lord no more.

I hid until he was done; he was cut off by the clock you have standing in your Entrance Hall. They must have been waiting for You-Know-Who to signal them or something because right then the fire blazed green. One of the boys sobered Blaise up right quickly with a charm and Zabini started yelling everyone to arms.

Now, I said not everyone was up to Blaise's proposal. So what's the bloody bastard do? Body binds the rest up! Him and the other Slytherin thugs just did it by magic and left.

Well, I had to step out from the shadows by then… get Pansy unjinxed. She organized the rest, took the willing Slytherins with me to help Harry Potter and sent the younger kids and older Slytherins right to St. Mungo's with Floo Powder.

Thanks to her really; all of it."

The boy sat back against the chair as if his own story had taken the last bit of his energy right out of him.

Malfoy shook his head; had Gregory ever really been such a bumbling idiot? He'd grown exponentially. "You are amazing." Draco said weakly.

Goyle laughed once, his voice booming, before he heaved a deep breath "Poor Pansy's so thin though, frail…" He looked away. "Blaise really did one on her, mate. Scared her half to death. I was surprised she could even fight."

"What about the other Slytherins?"

"The ones who fought? Or din't?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Either." He was still in awe by the whole situation. Who would have thought? Malfoy ran a hand through his soft hair.

"Well, all the Slytherins who didn't fight been reunited with their parents I 'spect. Some of the wounded are still bed though. I don't know what's going to happen to Blaise and his gang, eh?"

"Mmm." Draco scratched his neck absently; arching his back forward A satisfying pop rattled his spine. "Ahh." Goyle shook his head, smiling. "Look, I'm glad your doing fine, but if you need anything." Malfoy patted his friend's broad shoulder.

Goyle smiled and nodded. "Well, I'm going to visit Pansy." He stood up and picked up the package he had bought for her, shifting it in his arms. "Find me at the end of the day; I'll buy you a Fire Whisky or something."

Malfoy let out a sharp laugh. "Yeah, we'll talk more of this…this madness." He looked up through his long pewter eyelashes after a long moment of contemplative silence. "I'm glad no more were killed."

They looked at each other.

"You're a good Slytherin, Malfoy." Goyle bit his lip. "You're a good man."

Before Draco could respond, his classmate walked off towards the Special Care Ward down right corridor. Malfoy stared after him, wondering if he should settle down into another magazine or find food- his stomach gurgled unpleasantly.

Sitting up a little too fast, a sharp hiss of muted pain escaped Draco's lips.

Perhaps food didn't sound so appealing after all.

Well, he supposed it was time to go find Hermione. Draco had the rapidly growing urge to drag the girl into some broom closet and ravage her…

The sickening men on the _Wizard's Quarterly_ magazine winked up from the floor. Malfoy picked up the catalogue and tossed it face down onto one of the uncomfortable seat cushions.

He turned and started down the left corridor, opposite the one Goyle had taken.

Where had she gone again? To see Weasley? Faintly, in the back of his mind, Draco wondered if Katie Bell was still in one of the rooms he was walking by. Perhaps, instead of Bell, it was one of the DA, one of the Order, one of Pansy and Goyle's Slytherins.

Malfoy shoved his hands into his pant's pockets and was mildly perturbed to realize that the white pants he was wearing were not his own- the hospital's perhaps? It disturbed Malfoy further that the only reason he still had on his black shirt was that the blood stairs _there_ could hardly be seen. Obviously his slacks had been in worse shape.

But, _ugh_. Other people's _cloths_.

Draco shuttered, amazed at how in the aftermath of death, one's pants could be the dominating concern. Ah, the human psyche.

After three of four minutes, it came as a sudden realization that, as Malfoy had been looking for rooms with their door either open or with their shades pulled back, that Hermione could be sitting in a room with the door closed and the shades drawn.

He could have walked right by her and not even known.

Grumbling, Draco turned to double back. Perhaps a Healer could point him in the right direction.

Movement made him stop.

Draco had seen, from his angle walking down the hall, a woman reclining in one of the hospital beds in a room to his left. Now, as he turned around and was able to see more fully into the other side of the chamber, Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

There _was_ a women lying in a hospital bed, yet it was the figure moving to kneel as the _side _of the bed that chilled Draco's heart.

Three Aurors stool in the room; two at the door and one standing directly over Blaise Zabini as he cradled his mother hand in both his own. Slowly, the woman's long fingers were pressed to the boy's cheek as he raised her palm.

She wasn't dead; she seemed to sleep.

Malfoy was frozen in stride, his upper body twisted, his hands balled into firsts in his pockets. Staring, Draco noted the way the strikingly beautiful women lay limp and still. There was a bandage wrapped around the woman's brow.

Hadn't Malfoy seen Blaise's mother fighting along side Bellatrix? Had she taken a bad spell to the head?

Dreamlike, in two strides, Draco was at the large window, its shades pulled back halfway. At his movement, one of the Aurors caught his eye, raised his wand a few centimeters, yet did nothing. Draco laid his hand against the cold glass. Zabini looked up in surprise, yet his face was a careful mask of calm; like a condemned man whose only bid for sanity was calculated detachment.

The bruise on Zabini's temple had been magically healed.

Slowly, Blaise placed his mother's hand back onto the bed sheet, dark eyes locked onto Malfoy's wide, grey gaze. Draco's breath hit the glass, a quick cloud of condensation flashed there momentarily.

A memory, locked away, resurfaced.

Blaise hated women because of what his mother was. She had married how many men? Had Blaise ever known his father?

His mother was in it for the money; her husbands dying mysteriously once the two adults had been married long enough for the women to get her hands on the man's wealth. And hadn't Pansy been perusing- at lease in the beginning- the Malfoy name simply for wealth and power?

Zabini had pinned Pansy and his mother together. Pansy was the object at which Blaise could torment and get away with it.

But, still, _had_ Blaise ever known his father?

How simply did some throw that way, that privilege to have a father; Zabini had never known _his_ and yet Draco had…. his own…

The look in the young Deatheater's eyes wilted Draco's resolve. He wanted to comfort the boy. Even with the torment Blaise had had inflicted upon him, Malfoy wished he could rush in and save the idiot from the punishment he would undoubtedly endure.

Yet, he was only human- and still a Slytherin- and even a snake's wounds take time to heal.

The Auror standing behind Blaise tapped the keeling boy's shoulder. Eyes still on Malfoy's, Blaise stood.

Time. Time would be the savior of them all.

Draco stepped back, away from the room and back into the sanctuary of the stale hallway. Breathing in, the sweet sickening fumes of St. Mungo's flooded his lungs.

Embarrassed, shamed, his lowered his gaze from his fellow Slytherins'.

He still had to find Hermione; he couldn't deal with Zabini's problems.

Find Hermione.

.o.o.o.o.

"There's the Ferret!"

"Oh, you must be delirious."

Ron grinned as Draco slipped into the hospital room, clicking the door shut behind him. Hermione looked up where she was sitting next to Ginny on an old and patchwork couch; Potter sitting on the Weasel's bed.

Malfoy raised both his eyebrows as Hermione's tender smile; she was smoothing Ginny's hair. Ginny slumped onto Hermione's shoulder and said nothing, her gaze unfocused and on the wall in front of her.

"Potter."

"Malfoy."

"How's Lupin?"

Harry shifted his weight uncomfortably on the crisp white bed sheets. "He's alright, I suppose."

Draco felt his stomach contort, clench painfully. "How's Snape?" He said at last.

"Dead."

Ron's gaze settled on the ceiling, Hermione covered her mouth with her hand. Yet, for Malfoy, it wasn't such a shock. He knew, he _knew_, no matter what would happen, Snape would have ended up dead- or very nearly close to it

Standing still in the middle of the room, Draco didn't know what to do with himself. "That's why you were called back into Number Twelve. He was still alive then…" And Potter was nodding, nodding. "What did he say?"

"Look at me."

Hermione's head swiveled around.

Confused, nonplused, a long sigh escaped the Slytherin's lips. "What?"

"That's what he said; 'look at me', pressed a small vial of into my hand, and just… died."

"Vial?"

"Bottled memories."

Memories? His own memories?

The room was silent; and Draco wasn't sure if he was supposed to ask anything further. How could people just die like that?

Remembering how, days before, Draco had looked into Snape's cold eyes from the floor of the Malfoy study, he wondered briefly if at that time, the man knew he was doomed. He had double-crossed the Dark Lord twice and hadn't survived.

Ginny started to cry, sobs that hiccoughed at the end. She was shaking very slightly.

Ron looked helpless with his leg propped up, bandaged, as his sister broke down. Harry didn't even have the strength to comfort the girl; yet she didn't seem consolable anyway.

Slowly, the red head stood and flung herself at Draco. Malfoy flinched away at the sudden movement, never quite comfortable with such close contact. Grudgingly, he pulled his hands out of his pockets and wrapped his arms around the Gryffindor's frail shoulders. Ginny sobbed into his horridly dirty shirt, clutching at him.

She motioned to her left temple and tried to formulate words, the only sounds issuing from her lips a jumble of breathy noise.

Ah, Blaise Zambini.

Sobbing into his chest was the thanks for saving her life?

Feeling a little more awkward then he would have liked, Draco patted the mini- Weasel's back, tracing oblong circles between her shoulder blades in order to calm her.

Hermione caught his eye and smiled she smiled muzzily. Ginny's sobs slowed and she slumped on Draco's arm, out cold. Ron groaned, rolling his eyes. Malfoy delicately swept the girl into his arms and moved towards the hospital bed.

Gently, the redhead snuggled next to her brother's pillow. Ron reached over and pulled the hair away from his sister's eyes. With a groan, Malfoy sat beside Hermione.

"Saw Goyle." Draco murmured as Ginny murmured admits her slumber. Harry pulled up a squat little chair around the side where she was laying; his chin was resting close to the girl's face. Hermione laid her head on Malfoy's lap, her legs handing over the side of the couch.

She smiled and ran a hand through her tangled hair. "I know; I left him there with you."

"He went to see Pansy."

"I know; he bought her a stuffed bear."

"_Quaint_, to be sure."

Playfully, she gave Draco's arm a soft nudge with her own. "It's quite touching, actually." Yawning, Hermione arched her back and wrinkled her nose. Draco kissed it.

"Mmm."

Closing her eyes, Hermione snuggled into Malfoy's lap. He kissed the shell of her ear and rocked gently, his grey eyes calm. The room was a sanctuary of quiet in the wake of some hurricane.

The clock on the wall ticked.

It was amazing, Draco thought, his mind turning to Snape when he caught Potter's tired gaze- it was amazing how such a man could cover his tracks so well.

He was working for Dumbledore since the beginning, wasn't he? Protecting Draco was just an added bonus once his mother had weighed in on her son's safety.

He had freed Goyle, had saved Malfoy, had killed Dumbledore when Draco should have, was impersonating him so he could be safe.

How much Malfoy truly owed to Severus Snape could not be expressed in words.

There was a sharp rapping on the door of Weasley's room before it creaked open. Draco's head snapped up, as did Hermione's. Ginny was wide awake in seconds, most likely afraid the Deatheaters of her nightmares were going to barge into the room.

Two cloaked Aurors stood framed in the doorway. They gazed around the room.

"Draco Malfoy?" The stern witch clipped curtly.

"Yes?" Carefully, Hermione's head was lifted from his lap as she sat up, as Draco stood.

"Will you come with us, please?"

All the muscles in Draco's body tensed delicately. He was careful to keep his face blank of all emotion. "Why?"

"Please come with-'

"I need to know why."

"It concerns the death of your father, Lucius Malfoy. Now, will you come with us please?"

Hermione looked horrified, yet there was no flicker of surprise over Draco's features. "I'll be back." He said, without looking at her.

The three stepped out into the whitewashed hall of St. Mungo's and Draco shut the door firmly behind him.

* * *

A/n-

Sorry for the wait, but I've had SO much homework it's not even funny.

ANYWAY! The Epilogue is next! YAY!!!!!

Please review!!


	20. Epilogue: Final

A/n- Thanks to all you guys who reviewed! You are totally awesome: **magic2007**, _Max Ride Fan 13_, **Natural-181**, _The Princess Wolf_, **Zarroc**, _FairyPrincessWithATwist_, **Mazakai**, _Kitematsu_, **Dwindlingcandle**, and _Lildaani_. Long Author's Note at the end!

Disclaimer: Okay, I lied; Harry Potter was mine all along…

Summary: Somewhere between what should have happened, what has happened, and what will happen.

**Note:** The sections in between _italics_ are memories/flashbacks; it switches back and forth. Oh, and at the end part of this, I was listening to "Your Guardian Angel" by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, it really mirrors the mood.

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate **

**

* * *

**

"AH-HA! Check mate! Check mate! Ahahahahahahaaaaa!!!" 

Draco grimaced, eyes turning upwards towards the ceiling, a reproachful look melting slowly away into a lopsided grin. He pushed the chess board away from him as his King splintered and shattered against the marble board. Ginny pumped the air with her fist, the late morning sun filtering in through the open back door of the Burrow, rebounding off her hair like waves of liquid fire.

"You were never this good before." Malfoy laughed, running a hand through his silver-blonde hair, trying to analyze how he could have possibly lost to a Weasley.

Ginny whistled low, pulling the collar of her nightshirt higher on her neck, sipping cider from a large mug. "I'm just better then you, Draco Malfoy; deal with it."

Draco had to smile, he had to.

It had been a month; a month and a half since that horrifying last battle with the Dark Lord. Years, it seemed years since he had left Hogwarts.

The Castle, and the Burrow for that matter- even after only a month, felt like home in so many ways- unlike the Manor.

Currently, Malfoy was living for a brief stint with the Weasleys. Accompanying him in his extended stay in the household was Harry and Hermione; both deciding that this crucial time of 'reconstructing lives' should be done together.

The offer had come from Ron himself, much to Draco's surprise.

_And the offer had come after the Aurors had spoke with Draco at St. Mungo's…_

The air seemed to be constricting him, pulling his lungs inward from all sides.

"Mr. Malfoy." One of the Aurors pulled out his mother's wand from somewhere within their flowing robes. Neither pity nor anger reflected in the man's face. It was as if he was simply handing over a discarded piece of litter.

The air was so cold.

There, in the whitewashed halls of the Wizard's Hospital, Draco expected them to shackle him immediately, produce discerning evidence that he had committed murder; had killed his father with his mother's own wand

He would be taken away, wouldn't he? Away from Hermione, the woman he loved.

A surging fear, rising like bile in the back of his throat, was forcibly pressed deep, deep down into his subconscious. The next words to pass from his parted lips were a forced kind of calm.

"My mother's wand." Draco simply stated, not reaching for it.

"Yes." The witch, to the man's left, mused. "We found this next to the body of your father, Lucius Malfoy." Draco knew he had to act surprised, he had to mask his face with shock and hurt and betrayal. Nothing would come. His face remained a blank mask of frozen fear. "You are aware of his death?" The women questioned

"Uhn." Was all Malfoy could utter.

"I see…" The woman said, her eyes quickly darting to her partner and then back to Draco in an instant; if he'd have blinked, he would have missed it. She started her next sentence with deliberate care. "I am sorry to inform you that we are unable to identify your father's killer. You see, your mother's wand was used, it was the Killing Curse, yet, we cannot find your mother anywhere. We also are highly doubtful that Narsissa Malfoy would have killed her husband. Perhaps a fellow Deatheater betrayed your father. We understand that you were fighting against his people, yet, his death must still be hard for you to take."

"She's dead too."

Both the Aurors stared at him.

Before Malfoy could grasp at the speech which had previously ensued; he had to clear up the bit of misinformation about his mother.

"She-" flooding warmth was rushing through Draco's veins. Stopping, he swallowed; his pale neck extending just a fraction; as if this would help air flow into his immobilized lungs. "My mother; she's dead. I heard _him_ say so. At the Manor… you-" A sudden thought stuck him. "You must go to the Manor at once! We had Muggle maids! I am sure the Dark Lord has locked them up; some of them might already be dead. I am sure my mother's body will be there."

He was going to fall; fall to his knees, it was too hard, he couldn't…he couldn't…

The wizard spoke in a halting, jerky voice. "We were…unaware…of such… information…"

Obviously! And they were _Aurors_…

"We'll be in contact with you." The women said harshly. "This new development needs our immediate attention." The man shoved Narsissa's wand into Malfoy's hand. "The matter of the Malfoy Estate is of importance to us, to be sure, but this, this…"

"Anything I can do to help."

"We've got to hurry, Morgan." The wizard turned swiftly on his heel and began sprinting down the hall in the opposite direction. The witch took one last look at Malfoy.

"We'll be in contact with you; the arrangements, the Manor."

She hurried down the hall after her partner.

As soon as the pair had rounded the corner, Malfoy heaved a breath he had not known he had been holding.

Shaking, Draco leaned against the hallway wall.

They would never know.

No one would ever know.

His mother's wand was pressed firmly to his chest, his knuckles white against the dark wood.

Slowly, his thin fingers found his pale hair. Twisting the silver strands, he tried to reason with himself.

This was a dream. It was all a dream.

Someone had opened the door to Ron's room. Malfoy didn't notice, he was staring blankly at the lanoline floor. The colors seemed to be spinning.

"Draco?" She had crouched down next to him. "Merlin, you're white as a ghost!" A small laugh. "Draco? Malfoy?" Hermione noticed that the crystal blue of his eyes were encompassed in a wide, unblinking frame of white. "Oh my god; are you alright?!"

Her warm arms encircled his shoulders.

Narsissa's wand fell to the floor.

"Harry! Harry!" Hermione was yelling over her shoulder.

A laugh bubbled up from Draco's lungs, sweet relief flooding his brain and making him high.

_He would get away with it…_

In the days- weeks- following the Dark's Lord's demise, it had come as no shock that the numbness that had once occupied them began to fade as the reality of what had happened finally sunk in.

People, to put it in what Malfoy thought was the most basic of words, were dead.

Some, most, Draco had never spoken to nor had even met. Yet, he and the others had attended more funerals in the weeks following their discharge from St. Mungo's then Malfoy would have ever thought possible for a human being; that Malfoy would have ever thought healthy.

But more surprising then _that_, was the fact that the life, the simply joys and happiness's and pleasures in life, had **not** been sucked out of them. The numbness had ebbed, but their vitality had not.

Harry, for one, did not stare lifelessly at those around him; as if the loss and pain he felt within his soul had crippled him. He smiled, joked even, and was good natured. It was hard for him, yes, but Draco thought because the four of them had shouldered the weight of the Dark Lord's demise together- Potter had eased himself out of complete guilt.

And Ginny only wept at funerals. Oh, joy! It had ben assumed by Draco that the majority of his stay at the Burrow would have been compiled of Potter's moping and Ginny's hysterics. The ease it gave the Slytherin to see the Mini- Weasel smiling was near ridiculous.

Speaking of Weasels. Ron… well, Ron was Ron. He showed the most significant change. Yet, it wasn't as if it was for the worse. Now, it seemed that the boy demanded more from life- took less of it for granted. Pleased by the simple things, no one needed to ask him twice for a task to be completed or had to beg him for help out around the house. Ron would do as asked, willingly, smiling and joking as he went.

Surprisingly, Mrs. Weasley didn't have any nervous breakdown of any kind. Draco knew, for a distinct and definitive fact, that it was because of this woman and this woman alone that those from the DA and the Order had not lapsed into wallowing despair.

Malfoy had proof.

A week after even the most injured was sent away from the hospital with a 'clean bill of health', when the shock of death was so new that not a tear had yet to be shed, Molly Weasley had stood in front of her now _largely _extended family, and proposed a toast.

"Now," She shrilled in her wondrously mothering voice. "All of you listen here." The table was completely silent, faces turned in rapture towards the woman. "I want to…" For a moment it seemed as if her voice wavered, yet, she cleared it and continued on. "I wanted to express my love for all of you sitting at our table tonight. Let us not dwell on the past, on the loss of life, but on the future and how the sacrifices of some have ensured the lives of many." Tears were in Hermione's eyes; Draco cupped her small hand in his. "Celebrate the lives of those who have left us; celebrate the time they had with us and look towards a brighter…. " She didn't finish all the way.

Mr. Weasley stood up as his wife smiled blearily out at them. He placed a hand on his wife's shoulder and smiled reassuringly.

From that day forward, Molly had always lit candles in the kitchen window; one for each of those lost- may they be Gryffindor or Slytherin, Deatheater or Order member.

Yet, Draco had to admit, it wasn't as if the woman's speech had suddenly transformed them all into naïve, emotionless little dolls.

On particular occasions, when it was an especially gloomy night, when grief did surface, one could sometimes find a friend curled up by the fire, ready and willing to discuss the fond memories of a loved one lost; a smile on their face and tears in their eyes.

Never the less, Malfoy firmly accredited the minimal loss of sanity to Molly. Her philosophy had stayed them all from the torture of such anguish.

Suddenly, the clock next to the doorway of the Burrow's kitchen chimed nine, his musings of the past interrupted. Malfoy jumped and the table he and Ginny had been playing at rattled; one of his castle's fell over with a clatter.

"Twitchy little Ferret." Ginny murmured over the rim of her glass, smiling smugly.

Draco gave her a look. The girl giggled.

"Draco?" Someone called from the other room. Malfoy's chest heaved, a slight lightheaded feeling taking him over.

"Here." He called to Hermione, a sneer in his voice as he glared at the red head before him. "The Mini- Weasel's just destroyed my pride."

The girl in the other room laughed, thoroughly amused. Draco grinned, getting up from his hunched position on the chair. He plucked Ginny's empty cup from her hands and placed it with the other dishes that were being magically washed in the oversized sink.

A small smile twitched over the boy's lips

Over the doorway from which Hermione then appeared, four glass cases refracted the sunlight, dappling the walls in small rainbows. Within them, four separate rolls of parchment glittered with gold ink. Order of Merlin: First Class, one for each of them: Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Draco.

It was fitting, Draco thought, to have the four awards hang there together.

Admittedly, it made him a bit uncomfortable to think that, when he eventually left the comforting atmosphere of the Weasley household, his award would be removed from the wall and hung alone, by itself, in some cold hall of the Malfoy household. Not that this would come as a shock to him, for Hermione's prize would vanish too, yet it would be unnerving to have them separated.

"Draco?" Hermione was standing behind him, a hand on his arm. She pressed a kiss to his pale neck. "You're staring off into space again."

Malfoy smirked. "Always."

"You're going out?" Ginny chirped casually, still sitting at the table.

Hermione nodded, plucking one of the wicker baskets from its peg above the sink. Malfoy said nothing, but watched the girl carefully line the inside of the wickerwork with one of Molly's clean hand towels. Her fingers were so delicate; warm. She moved towards the pantry where the milk and cheese were kept magically cold.

Ginny clapped her hands, "A _picnic_, even!"

"Weasley, don't you have somewhere to be?" Draco hissed, rolling his eyes towards her in mock hatred. "Like following Potter around, licking his heels?"

From within the pantry, Hermione clucked her tongue, Ginny pursed her lips.

"That wasn't very nice." She said curtly, folding her arms.

"I'm not nice." Draco shot back.

"Now, now, _children_," Hermione reemerged with a cut of cheese, some crackers, half a salami, and a small bag of fruit she had bought from the Muggle green grocer. "We're only going up on the hill, Ginny." The girl nodded in reference to the sloping hillock towards the back of the Weasley's property line.

Licking his lips, Malfoy caught Hermione's eye, distracted from his momentary ill will towards Ginny. "Perhaps you could pack up some of those- what are they- pop bottles?"

She sighed. "Those aren't good for you; I don't know why I bought them. All these Muggle treats, it's like giving candy to a baby." Despite her own grievances, Hermione grabbed two chilled bottles- a Root Beer for her and an Orange Cream, Malfoy's new favorite. Hermione would always laugh at when, after the bottle was finished, his lips would be stained ginger.

Stacking the food and drink neatly into the basket, Hermione shouldered it, waving off Draco's attempts to carry it for her.

"We should be back in a little bit, if you see Harry or Ron," She whispered towards Ginny, "Don't tell them where we've gone." Ginny grinned, tapping her wand upon the chess board, the pieces rearranging and repairing themselves.

As she was speaking, the Slytherin moved towards the backdoor. Leaning there, he ran a hand through his hair, chin thrust into the air, eyes flickering across the room. Hermione did a double take, taken aback by the way the sunlight framed his tall figure. She flushed red.

Draco arched an eyebrow.

"All right!" Hermione shooed him out, the door closing behind them with a hard pull of the handle. Ginny moved to the sink window, waving. The red head watched them trudge across the Weasley's back lawn until they disappeared behind the wall of trees that separated the yard from the rest of their acreage.

A soft morning wind blew through the lowland, rustling the leaves around the pair as they took the barely beaten path through the weedy grass. Hermione's simple pink blouse caught one of the drafts and the fabric rippled.

She grinned, her arm hooked around Draco's. The boy helped her over the tiny brook that separated the land and the start of the hill.

Inclining his head, Malfoy nodded over to a leaning shack near the tree line.

"It's their old Quidditch supply shed."

"Ah."

"Draco?" She blinked up at him, her soft brown eyes smoldering.

"Yes?"

"How are Blaise and Goyle? And Pansy? I know you were in touch with them last week when the Aurors let you go back home. You never explained what happened-" Biting his lip, he could see that Hermione sensed his hesitation. "Never mind."

Quickly, he backpedaled. "No, no. It's just…" He trailed off, looking up at the sun now partially shielded by the treetops and the cresting grass. "I only spoke to Goyle. He was at the Manor when I got there."

Hermione looked confused.

Draco began to narrate as they trudged up the grass.

"_I'll explain everything Hermione…you see, it was that Thursday morning when I went to the Ministry…_

"Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco looked up from his chair in the stuffy office; above, tiny paper airplane notes zoomed between departments. His hands fell onto his knees, hair fallen in his face.

"Yes?" Breathless, it was nearly embarrassing.

"Mr. Mason will see you now."

Malfoy nodded curtly, standing and smoothing out his button up black shirt. Face drawn into a tight mask, his eyes only darted to the secretary before slipping into the Auror's office.

"Draco Malfoy." It was the same man from before, the same Auror that had talked to him outside Ron's room at St. Mungo's. "Sit, please." From behind his large desk, the man motioned to a chair against the wall. As soon as he spoke, the chair zoomed from the corner to the opposite side of the desk.

Draco sat stiffly.

Looking around, he noticed the pictures of the wizard's children- two girls, not even ten.

The man cleared his throat. Draco's attention was drawn back. Mr. Mason was shuffling rolls of parchment. The grandfather clock in the corner next to the Ficus tocked loudly.

"I'm sorry to call you to the Ministry so early, Mr. Malfoy." It was strange for Draco to be addressed so; like Lucius. "But the paperwork we contacted you about earlier on in the week is almost complete. I just needed some signatures and we can be on our way."

On Monday Malfoy had received a stack of legal papers regarding his finances and guardianship. The latter problem had been fixed, for Draco was now of age. The former, however, was hard for him to come to terms with.

"Here are the papers from Gringotts," The parchment roll was pulled from the pile and placed in front of Draco, the man's quill pointing to some parts of the articles of contract. "This states that you take on the Malfoy finances, including within thereof your father and mother's joint bank accounts and your fathers' stock and bond options. It will be placed under your name. If you will sign here and…here."

Draco took the quill and signed.

"Right, good, now," The man produced a larger stack. "These are the papers concerning the entirety of your parent's worldly possessions; the Manor and what it contains. Your father's Will was very clear on all of this; you were to get everything. Very simple as Wills go, actually. But there are a few pages to sign."

Draco pressed the quill to paper and assumed control of his own life.

He felt… a strange sense of liberation.

"I-" Malfoy stumbled over his words. "That's all? Just a few signatures and my parent's lives are now mine?"

The Auror nodded, taking his quill back- a lovely white owl's feather- and placing it back within its well. "That's about right Mr. Malfoy."

"Please don't call me that."

Mr. Mason blinked across at the Slytherin. Draco's hands were balled into fists and he stared broodingly at the parchment, a silent war raging within his head. Sighing, the man restacked the papers, filing them away in Draco's legal record.

"As you know… Draco." The man stared out uneasily. "There is still the issue of your parents' burial."

The offhanded way the topic was brought up seemed to knock the wind out of Malfoy's lungs.

"I'm sorry?"

Leaning forward, Mr. Mason splayed his hands out wide. "You were informed that the bodies of your parents were being held by the Ministry until they could be released to you, yes?"

Draco nodded mutely; the man continued.

"I'm not usually one for the legal side of matters- it's not my department you see- only when a subject is in the interest of my department do I get wrapped up in this sort of thing. Your father was under investigation, that's why I am in charge of your legal status. You do realize we have searched your house and seized all evidence and Dark Arts materials, correct? I believe that was outlined in the letter as well."

Another nod, but Malfoy said nothing.

"Our work here is done, Draco, you do realize that, yes? We have completed our investigation, carried out your father's will, and finished with the legal paper work. Your parents are being released to you, Draco; I wanted to know if you had made any plans."

Suddenly Malfoy felt as if he was having a heat attack; his pulse speeding up exponentially. His grey eyes widened.

"I- I."

"And I don't want to frighten you, but there is still the aspect of the Muggle maids your father had control over. Strictly speaking it is illegal to keep Muggles against their will but it seems that the women working at the Malfoy Manor had not been forced, perhaps merely threatened. You may either keep them on as staff or send them away."

The room fell silent for a moment.

A paper airplane note zoomed into the room and fluttered down upon the Auror's desk. The man took not notice of it; he was still staring at Draco.

When Mr. Mason spoke again, it was in a soft, fatherly tone. "Please ask me if I can help in any way and I'll be glad to."

Draco's long pale fingers flexed into fists and then relaxed again. He did this four of five times, trying to clear his head. Mr. Mason waited without prodding. Vaguely, Draco felt that the man had realized he had pushed too hard too fast. He was allowing Draco to absorb all the information.

Slowly, the Slytherin allowed himself to come to some gradual conclusions. "I don't care what you do with my father." Mr. Mason controlled his surprise; Draco glanced up at him and seeing no indignation, continued. "I want my mother to be buried on the property. This afternoon if that can be arranged. The maids will be dismissed."

"We can have the casket delivered at a moment's notice."

Both of them stood up.

"Thank you for all your help Mr. Mason."

"Owl me with any questions you might have."

_Draco nodded, extending his hand out for the man to shake…_

Draco and Hermione had reached the summit of the hill whilst Draco was in the middle of his story. Hermione magically expanded the small dishtowel she had packed into a blanket so they could both sit.

Both the Soda Pop bottles were opened and stuck into the earth at an odd angle. Draco was flipping the Orange Cream bottle cap up in the air and catching it again, leaning back to lay against the ground, his arms under his head.

Hermione sat next to him, arms around her knees. "You told me they just wanted to discuss the estate."

"I didn't want to worry you."

The girl smiled warmly, leaning down to brush Draco's lips with hers. "I appreciate it, but you can tell me, you know you can. It must have been hard for you; you shouldn't have kept that all bottled up inside."

Draco shrugged, closing his eyes, tongue whirling around his mouth so he could taste the faintest hint of sugar. "I thought I told you I buried my mother."

"You did- but that was all. I didn't want to pry." Hermione lay on the blanket too, her hand finding Malfoy's and holding it against her side. "So, at the Manor, that's where you saw Gregory?"

Draco turned to her and propped himself up on his elbow.

"_Yeah… he was waiting for me that afternoon…_

"Oiy!"

Draco laughed, surprised, taking the long drive up to the Manor steps, his shoes crunching the gravel underneath. There was a bouquet of lilies in his thin hands.

"Malfoy!" Goyle grinned and pulled his fellow House mate into a large hug when the blond had reached the front stoop. "How are you? I heard about the burial and thought maybe you'd like a little support. Pansy sends her wishes; she's with her mother today."

Malfoy, flushed pink at the kindness of Gregory's actions, and was relieved that the subject had changed so quickly.

"How is Pansy?" He asked in a soft, level voice.

Goyle nodded. "She's well. I took her out and around after she got out of St. Mungo's about a week ago. She looks good, Draco. She's doing well." The inflection in his voice was something Malfoy didn't miss.

"She likes having a thug like you around then, eh?" Draco pulled out his wand and tapped the door to the Manor, smiling at the little joke. The lock clicked and the massive front doors swung open.

"We seem to enjoy each other, yeah." Goyle followed him inside.

Immediately, the two were graced with the presence of five or six petite Muggle women.

This was the first time Draco had set foot in his own house since the incident before the Dark Lord had been destroyed. He would have at least like to been able to take in the weight of the space before being bombarded with these women.

"Sir, we are to give you these." The nearest maid handed Draco two pieces of parchment.

The first was written in a familiar form of handwriting

_Draco,_

_We've modified the women's memories. They believe their Muggle employer has died and you are to instruct them on their further duties. They will not have any recollection of their time serving the Malfoy family. The money you have requested for each of them has been presented._

_Your mother's casket has been delivered to the spot as you specified in the office and the particulars you have outlined have been completed. _

_Thank you very much for your patience._

_All the best,_

_Mr. Stevens Mason; Auror_

_Ministry of Magic_

_Note: We have enclosed a list of items that could not be located in your house after the demise of You-Know-Who as well as the objects we have confiscated. Your personal items are being searched for and should be returned to you as they resurface._

Under the letter was a small paper; one side of it filled with various Dark items which, after looking them over, Draco realized that he either didn't know they had in the first place or that didn't care that they took. The second list was too been expected; various bottles of alcohol and some of the china sets as well as the silver was missing. But, those things would be returned to him; in time at least, and Draco didn't care that much anyway.

Draco grimaced, and then handed the letter over to Goyle. "How do you like that?"

While Goyle read, Malfoy noticed the suitcases each woman held. He also noticed that a few were missing; that old woman in particular. She must have… been murdered by the Deatheaters.

Taking a deep breath, Draco addressed them in what he hoped was a commanding voice. "I thank you for your services, I do. I have been informed you have received your final payment…" His breath died. "There's nothing else, I-" He broke off. "That's all."

Silently, the women slowly left the house, some pausing to take Malfoy's hand or to incline their head. Within minutes the two boys were alone.

"So," Draco started, moving around the expansive living room to throw back every curtain he could reach, light flooding the entirety of the Manor's ground floor. "How did you know about my mother?"

"Connections."

Draco laughed. "That so?" But he didn't care about the answer to his previous question. He was stalling for time; he knew it and Goyle knew it. As if Gregory could sense his apprehension, he started a new line of conversation.

"The Deatheaters all got sentences yesterday. I had to go to the court hearings. Surprised you weren't there actually."

Flicking his wand, a few of the upturned chairs righted themselves. "Our statements were privately recorded."

Goyle smiled, sitting down upon the mildly dusty couch. "Ah to be a hero; how is it?" Draco glared at him, pushing open the ceiling high windows, air pushing the staleness out. "Not sore over Potter's fame any longer, eh?"

"What happened?"

Goyle shrugged, sitting back. "Well, you know all the Dementors fled, right?" Draco nodded. "So, Azkaban's useless, init? Well, instead of being locked up, the Deatheaters all got various years of restricted magical use. Bellatrix got the worse; the rest of her life as a Muggle. Horrible, eh?"

It was maddening; looking around the house Draco ran a hand through his hair. This place was overwhelming, too large. How was he going to clean it all? A small frown appeared on his face as he turned back to Goyle. "And Blaise?"

"It was going to be two years for him, but they cut it down to one because of his mother. She's still in St. Mungo's you know; she hasn't woken up yet. They say she'll pass away soon if she's not snapped out of it."

"Poor man."

"He did it to himself."

"That's heartless, Gregory."

Goyle stood up again. "Well, you can't always predict the future, but you can make sure you don't try and bloody screw it up," The silence was broken only by Malfoy's snarl as he waved his wand at a shattered Fire Whisky bottle he had found near the opposite doorway. Goyle switched topics. "Come on, Malfoy!" Draco blinked. "You can't put this off forever."

An icy chill ran up and down Draco's spine; he leaned against the side of the couch, his head down, lips barely moving.

"I don't think I'll be able to do it."

Grabbing his friend's shoulder, Goyle steered him down the hall. "Sure, I'll be right with you, mate. If you don't face this now, you'll never be able to move on."

The two stepped out onto the back veranda; looking out over the ruined back yard of the Malfoy Manor. The trees still stood like lifeless statues among the flatlands of the reminiscent orchard.

There, beneath the left hand most tree was a fresh mound of dirt and a large pit in which Narcissa's casket had been lowered. Malfoy had been adamant that the Ministry dig the grave and set the box inside before he came.

Malfoy looked around the backyard, eyes flickering over the dead lawn and to the blown apart trees along the path there. The earth at the base of one, and its shattered bark, was still stained a dark muted brown- his blood from before. It was summer; there was no rain to wash away the sins and the memories of the past.

Slowly, the pair trudged up, Goyle hanging back a few feet to give Draco some privacy. Bending down, Draco kneeled by the edge of the rectangular shaped hole.

A breeze off the trees rippled through them, ruffling Draco's silvery hair.

How fitting that his mother would be buried amongst the forgotten apple orchard of his youth? She had been such a vibrant and wonderful woman in Draco's childhood; how quickly that hade all changed.

A frown creased Draco's forehead.

There would never be another mother like her.

The lilies clutched within his hands smelled of crisp, clean innocence, the whiteness of the petals contrasting so starkly against the yellow center it made the world seem a dull sepia.

Why hadn't the flowers been roses? Roses were her favorite. A white flower… their whole lives had been in black and white and pale colors of such. Why had he chosen something so simple?

For the first time in a long while, Draco felt tears rolling down his cheeks.

The lily reminded him so much of Narcissa. A fragile plant, its neck extending towards the sky as its gold center was framed in cream.

Malfoy heard Goyle move away from where he stood, but he ignored it. A low choke built up and ripped from his chest. Stifling the noise, Draco brought his free hand to clutch at his mouth, crystal eyes wide and fearful.

"Draco, mate."

Taking a deep breath, he looked up to see Goyle standing near. Gregory's arm was outstretched toward him. Between his fingers Malfoy's Slytherin Family ring hung limply. Despite its abuse, the metal still shone silver; the green eyes of the snake still shimmered like jewels.

"I could see the light hit it."

Absently, Draco touched his own neck. The scar had all but faded completely away.

Gingerly, Draco took the band from the other's grasp. He looped the stems of the flowers through the ring, turning back to the grave. With a long reach, he was able to lay the crude little wreath onto the box.

Were there some words he could say? _Should_ he say something?

Out of his robes Draco pulled her wand; next to the flowers he lay the shaft of wood.

Nature, humans, and magic. The flowers, the ring, and the wand.

Draco stood up, his own wand flicking towards the mound of dirt. Silently, the earth was slowly moved around the casket, filling the ground back up. In some gesture, Draco tossed a handful of dirt into the hole as well.

The tears were almost gone; almost.

Near the base of the tree stood erect a small marker. Her name, the dates of her too short life, and that was all. There was no need for elaborate carvings and ceremonies, Narcissa wouldn't have wanted it that way.

The last of the dirt fell with a dull thud against the packed earth.

Leaning in, staring intently at the smooth ground, Draco tried to memorize how his mother looked, how she laughed; for all the portraits in the Manor could not bring Narsissa's true beauty back to life. All the while he recited a jumble of Molly Weasley's mantras and montages silently in his head, perhaps for the hundredth time.

She had lit a candle in her window for Narcissa too.

Although he pained for his mother, and he did- the tears were nearly breaking into silent sobs- he knew that Mrs. Weasley had been right.

It was better to die for a cause, to die for someone, to put up a fight, then to live without conviction. Weakly, Draco was able to smile through his tears. That's what she did, his mother. She had taken a chance and had sacrificed herself to save him, to try and protect him.

There was such good here, here in the Manor, on the Malfoy property, once long ago. Why should it stand as a testimony to the corruption that had killed his family?

Perhaps he could rebuild this place.

Perhaps he could be good again.

It didn't always have to be this way; dead, a wasteland.

Glancing up to the sky, Draco saw the clouds churning so far above him. His eyes darted to the trees and back down again. Malfoy did a double take, breath whistling in sharply though his clenched teeth.

There, upon the twisted branches extending over his mother's grave, pink fruit flower buds were glistening in the sunlight, nestled among the once lifeless wood.

_His pale cheeks flushed with thrilling color…_

Draco had rushed the last bit of the story to Hermione. He informed her that Goyle had bid goodbye and went to meet Pansy later that evening; the boy had promised to return that next weekend and help Draco clean out the Manor.

Hermione traced the lines of Malfoy's face. He closed his eyes, a soft sigh issuing from his lips.

"I would have been there, too… if you had told me."

A small smirk twisted Draco's lips. "I didn't want you to see me like that; pitiful."

Hermione's eyes flashed. "It is not; it's alright to cry you know." Her face was flushed. Opening his eyes, Draco smiled up at her.

"It's hard for me, still, you know. I try to open myself to you, but I'm still learning." He was close to her; she had leaned over onto his chest. He could feel the heat from her body on his, her heart fluttering so fast it hurt him.

She was delicious.

He blinked his long lashes, melting her brief chill. She pressed her lips to his collar bone. "I know that, I know that."

The softness of her kisses sent thrills up and down Draco's sides. He trailed a hand through her hair.

Pulling the girl closer, Malfoy pressed his lips onto her ear, breathing softly. "How long are you planning to stay with the Weasleys?" She clutched at his shoulders.

"A little while longer I suppose," Hermione admitted, smiling at him. "Not forever."

In a soft but swift motion, Draco took hold of her arms and rolled her over so she was pinned beneath him. Her hands fell to the ground from where they had held his. Draco leaned down and pressed his cheek to her neck, breathing in Hermione's smell.

She was an angel.

Hermione's cheeks tinted crimson as Draco's hand traveled down from her neck to her chest, lingering there momentarily before ending around her hip, cupping the shape there.

"I'll be leaving soon too." His voice was rough, strained, and low. Hermione looked away. "I can't leave _you_."

"But we're not going back to Hogwarts." As her eyes locked onto his, now Draco couldn't meet her gaze. He nodded.

Draco knew she lived a distance from where he resided. She was near the Southern most part of London; the Manor was in Wiltshire, ninety miles west of that area. A good hour and a half drive. Of course, they could Apparate, or use the Floo network, but it wouldn't be the same.

He wanted to fall asleep next to her warm little frame, wake to rays of morning light streaking across her face

After the small pause; Hermione laughed softly. "If this is another one of those 'I'll give you something to remember me by' moments, you can forget it. You know how I feel about those things. I promise, we'll work something out, I love you Draco."

His heart was in his throat. "I love you, Hermione," Draco took a shallow breath. "I can't…" She searched his face, confused. "The house is so large…" He couldn't start. How was he supposed to say this? It was unbearable! "I can't be alone, away from you," Now the words came out in a rush. "Please come back with me, to the Manor. I won't pressure you, but I need you. I'd sell everything and leave to be with you, but the Manor has everything we need. The libraries are immense, the orchards are blooming again." His voice pitched low. "We're of age, Hermione, and I want this."

His mouth was on hers, crushing her lips in an eager kiss. She returned it willingly. Only when they both needed the oxygen did they break apart.

Draco searched Hermione's eyes.

Slowly, she pursed her lips. "Are you proposing?"

Malfoy shook his head; Hermione seemed to relax. "Not yet, anyway," He smirked coyly. Hermione raised both her eyebrows but didn't object; electricity was rendering Draco's thoughts to absolute nothingness.

"How do you think my parents would react if I lived with you, Draco? _Before_ marriage no less. I'm a very innocent woman, Malfoy, you seem to forget that." She didn't miss the hunger in his eyes.

Draco bit his lip. "I can wait; I'd wait a hundred years. I want you, Hermione, but I wouldn't do anything that would… displease you." The sincerity in his eyes sharpened intensely

Hermione laughed. "Oh, you are adorable." Draco grinned. He swooped down and kissed her, taking her bottom lip between his teeth for a moment.

"Is that a yes then?" His chest heaved against hers.

"My sensible side is saying that we'll still need to talk about this, but my heart says yes. Yes, Draco, I love you, I'll make a life with you." She turned pink.

Stunned, Malfoy looked down at her. He couldn't hide the wide smile that appeared on his face. Letting out an excited noise, he hugged her body to his, chuckling, kissing every inch of her face he could reach. Hermione gasped, pleased, her lips parting to his. Draco's hands cupped her upper arms.

"Hey!" Ginny's magically magnified voice boomed from the window of the Burrow.

Groaning, Draco rolled off of Hermione, a hand covering his eyes. Hermione slapped his arm playfully. Sitting up, he nuzzled her neck.

"Mum and Dad say Lupin and Tonks are coming over and want you two to help clean!"

Behind her, the faint voices of Harry and Ron were heard through the magic of the girl's wand.

"Ginny leave them alone!" Harry was hissing to her.

Ron, protective as ever, sounded a bit put off. "Where'd they go off to?"

"Ron, come on."

"Harry! It's _Malfoy_!"

"Aren't we over this by now!?"

"Yeah, but…. Ginny, still…. They're off on their own!"

"You don't seem to object when _Harry_ and I go off on _our_ own, _do you_?"

"But! I- what?!"

The noises broke off into a little argument. Hermione laughed, tossing her head back.

Draco grinned, shaking his head. "Should we go back?" Hermione was shrinking the snacks and putting them back into the basket.

"I suppose so; it seems they _do_ need our help."

The pair stood, Draco's arm encircling the girl's waist.

"I love you, Hermione."

"I love you too."

Together they took the trail back down the hill towards the Weasley household, their hands held together in an unbreakable clasp.

They had survived the prejudices of those near and dear to them, they had survived the stifling boundaries of their Hogwarts years, and they had survived the horrors of Lord Voldemort, always together.

In that strange contact high of accomplishment and love, they knew they could survive whatever else their life would throw at them.

Besides, what else could possibly happen?

Ron's jaw dropped at the couple standing in the Weasley's kitchen doorway, the pair having just explained their decision regarding their future departureof the Burrow. "You're _what_?!" He blurted.

Draco and Hermione glanced at each other, Ginny letting out little coos of surprise and delight, Harry scratching the back of his head, looking pleased.

"Well," Harry said finally. "It's not like this comes as any kind of surprise, does it?"

No, they agreed, definitely not.

* * *

**Fin**

**

* * *

**

A/n- I'm stunned! The last chapter; can you believe it? I can't! Twenty pages and BAM, it's over. 

Well, I hope this has lived up to the life of its predecessor. It if has, great! It not, well, I had fun writing it anyway.

I'd like to thank everyone who helped me and put up with me during this; my reviewers, Mika, and my boyfriend for living with me and Draco for the last few months.

THIS IS IT! It's over! Jackknifed and its spawn are finally completed! (and no more sequels)

AHHH!

Well, I loved writing this last chapter; I tried to pour myself into it as much as possible.

I will be working on two other Dramione fanfictions, but they probably won't be up for a month or so. Not many people besides those close to me know this, but I am currently in the process of finishing up a YA novel. I had taken a break from it, starting Jackknifed to distract me for a while. God, did THAT work out all too well.

So, the next few weeks will be dedicated solely to completing my long overdue project.

After that, I have a One-shot and a Two-shot Dramione lined up. One placed around the epilogue of Deathly Hallows and the second around year one of Hogwarts.

(and you all know I don't really own Harry Potter, so no suing)

Perhaps I'll also have a Edward x Bella fanfic going up sometime, you know, from the books my Stephanie Meyer.

Haha, anyway, it was really fun writing this!

Come back and visit my stories soon! Please review!!!!

Love you guys,

Lena


End file.
